EL  FOR  YOUNG  OR  OLD 


or 


Novels  of 
ISLA    MAY    MULLINS 

Each  one  volume,  cloth,  1  2  mo,  illustrated,  $1.75 

m 


THE  BLOSSOM  SHOP 
ANNE  OF  THE  BLOSSOM  SHOP 

ANNE'S  WEDDING 
THE  MT.  BLOSSOM  GIRLS 


TWEEDIE 
UNCLE  MARY 


THE    PAGE    COMPANY 

53  BEACON  STREET  BOSTON,  MASS. 


NCLE  MARY 

./?  Novel  for  Young  or  Old 


ISLA   MAY    MULLINS 

Author  of 

"The  Blossom  Shop"  Books, 
"Tweedie,"  etc. 


With  a  fronliipiece  in  full  color  from  a 
painting  by 

GENE  PRESSLER 

And  other  illustrations  from  drawings 
bv 

JOHN  GOSS 


I 


Copyright,  1922 
BY  THE  PAGE  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 


Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


First  Impression,  May,  1922 


PRINTED   BY   C.  H.  SIMONDS   COMPANY 
BOSTON,  MASS.,  U.S.A. 


IN  MEMORY  OF 

M.  JOSEPHINE  TUTT 

WHOSE  SKILL  AND  INSPIRATION  AS 

TEACHER  OF  ENGLISH 

GAVE  ME  MY  FIRST  IMPULSE  TOWARD 

WRITING 


2137297 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAQH 

I    FORECAST 1 

II    A  LETTER 7 

III  MARY      . 21 

IV  AN  ARRIVAL 31 

V    MARY'S  STRATEGY 50 

VI  SUNDAY 71 

VII  MONDAY 83 

VIII  SURPRISES  GATHER 89 

IX  NEW  FEATHERS      .......     97 

X  UNCLE  MARY  SHOCKS  THE  TOWN  .  .  116 

XI  A  LIMOUSINE  CHRISTMAS 126 

XII  A  FRIEND  AT  COURT 141 

XIII  INVESTIGATION 158 

XIV  "STAN'  STILL!" 163 

XV    FINDING  NEW  PATHS 175 

XVI    A  STRANGE  RETURN 195 

XVII    ELWOOD 207 

XVIII    DEVELOPMENT    . 234 

XIX    A  COMING  AND  A  GOING 236 

XX  FEMININE   OBSTINACY   AND  MASCULINE 

DECISION.  .  252 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

XXI    DEPARTURES 264 

XXII  Two  INNOCENTS  CONSPIRE    ....  277 

XXIII  JOY  ARRIVES  BUT  TROUBLE  LINGERS.    .  293 

XXIV  A  VICTOR 306 

XXV    A  TOWN  WEDDING 323 

XXVI  EEVELATION  .                                          .  328 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

UNCLE  MARY Frontispiece 

"  FOR  ANSWER  MARY  GAVE  HER  A  LOOK  THAT  WAS 

ALL-SUFFICIENT  " 9 

" '  WHAT  ARE  YOU  STARING  AT,  ALICE  HAL- 

SEY  ? "  109 

"  '  BUT  YOU  MUST  COME  HOME,'  MARY  CRIED, 

LAYING  A  HAND  ON  HIS  ARM  "  .  .  .  .  2O2 
"  '  NOW,  WHAT  IS  TO  BE  MY  ANSWER?  '  "  .  .  3IO 


UNCLE  MARY 

CHAPTER  I 

FORECAST 

A  LITTLE  group  sat  upon  the  hotel  ver- 
anda of  a  small  New  England  town  when  a 
stranger  came  out,  and,  looking  keenly  into 
the  faces  about  him,  said  genially,  "Is  there 
room  for  another?'*  He  was  of  medium 
height,  well  proportioned  and  with  a 
smooth  face  upon  which  were  written  in 
equal  proportions  business  interest,  kind- 
ness and  determination.  Dark  brown  hair 
lightly  touched  with  gray,  crowned  his  erect, 
well-dressed  figure. 

There  were  rather  inarticulate  responses 
to  his  question,  for  it  was  nobody's  special 
prerogative  to  welcome  or  deny;  but,  with 
an  air  of  ready  adaptation,  the  stranger  sat 
easily  down. 


2  Uncle  Mary 

The  habitual  lounger  at  once  placed  the 
new-comer  as  from  the  West,  and  gave  him 
no  further  interest.  The  others  chatted 
more  or  less  with  the  stranger,  who  was  de- 
termined to  be  friendly. 

Finally,  one  by  one,  the  men  left,  or  went 
inside  as  the  hour  for  dinner  approached, 
till  only  the  stranger  and  the  lounger  re- 
mained. They  sat  in  silence  for  a  time; 
then  the  stranger  turned  pleasantly  to  the 
other,  and  asked:  "Do  you  know  anything 
of  a  little  village  not  far  from  here,  called 
Sunfield?" 

"Born  there,"  returned  the  lounger, 
laconically. 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  the  stranger,  with 
ingratiating  pleasure ;  "then  you  must  know 
the  people  well!" 

"  'Tain't  much  to  know  'em,"  came  again 
curtly. 

"Small  town,"  returned  the  stranger,  un- 
perturbed. "Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  name 
over  to  me  some  of  the  old  residents  ?  I  was 


Forecast  3 

there  once,  and  I  would  like  to  refresh  my 
mind  as  to  names." 

It  took  some  time  for  the  lounger  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  so  decided  exertion,  but  he 
finally  brought  forth  the  names  of  a  dozen 
or  fifteen  families. 

"Ah,"  said  the  stranger,  "they  sound 
familiar."  He  asked  concerning  perhaps 
three  or  four  families,  simply  inquiring  how 
many  of  the  family  were  then  living,  and 
questions  of  like  general  character.  Among 
the  names  mentioned  by  the  lounger  was 
that  of  Halsey,  and  not  a  shade  more  of 
concern  appeared  as  the  stranger  put  the 
query,  several  times  repeated,  "And  what 
members  of  the  family  are  left?" 

"Well,  there's  just  the  two  Halsey  girls, 
now.  The  old  folks  died  and  the  boy  ran 
off.  Alice  sets  in  a  wheel  chair  all  day,  and 
Mary  sews  up  the  town  with  her  needle,  and 
lashes  it  with  her  tongue."  The  lounger 
was  much  pleased  with  himself  over  this 
spontaneous  bit  of  wit. 


Uncle  Mary 


"Is  that  so?"  returned  the  stranger,  and 
passed  on  to  another  name  or  two  which  he 
had  noted  in  the  lounger's  list.  Then  the 
stranger,  seemingly  satisfied,  passed  in  to 
get  his  dinner ;  and  immediately  after,  hired 
a  small  motor  run-about  and  set  off,  over 
the  Berkshire  hills,  toward  the  little  village 
of  Sunfield. 

It  was  a  very  beautiful  early  Octo- 
ber evening,  with  a  lingering  touch  of 
summer  in  the  air.  The  ride  was  a  delight, 
or  would  have  been  had  not  the  stranger's 
mind  been  filled  with  thoughts  not  just  to 
his  liking.  He  stopped  his  car  at  last  and 
parked  it  just  at  the  edge  of  the  village. 
Then  he  set  out  afoot  along  a  roadway  for 
some  distance  before  he  came  to  a  semblance 
of  sidewalk.  But  at  last  his  quick  step 
struck  a  beaten  path ;  and,  although  it  was  by 
this  time  fully  dark,  he  walked  on  a  bit  with 
confidence,  turned  in  at  a  little  gateway  and 
thence  up  a  brick  path  toward  the  door  of  a 
small  brown  cottage.  The  transparent 
draperies  of  the  glass-paned  door  were 


Forecast  5 

drawn  back,  and  the  approaching  visitor 
involuntarily  halted,  as  he  looked,  without 
obstruction,  into  the  pleasant  sitting  room 
which  was  the  heart  of  the  little  house. 
There  was  a  wheel  chair  drawn  up  beside 
a  center  table,  covered  with  books  and 
papers  and  a  bit  of  sewing.  A  quiet  woman's 
figure,  not  a  great  many  years  beyond  girl- 
hood, filled  the  wheel  chair  and  a  quiet, 
attractive  face  bent  forward  listening,  but 
not  with  approval,  he  was  quick  to  note. 
His  eyes  went  swiftly  to  another  young 
woman's  figure,  opposite  the  one  in  the 
wheel  chair ;  it  was  a  more  aggressive  figure, 
with  a  face  of  sharpened  features,  a  frown 
caught  between  the  eyes,  hair  drawn  tightly 
back,  every  line  marking  severity  as  she 
talked  and  gestured  emphatically.  The 
stranger  might  have  heard  what  she  said, 
had  he  drawn  a  little  closer ;  but,  instead,  he 
suddenly  turned  his  steps  and  walked  with 
vigor  back,  down  to  the  gate,  along  the 
beaten  path  and  over  the  roadway  to  where 
he  had  parked  his  car.  Without  pause  he 


Uncle  Mary 


set  it  going  again,  over  the  hills  to  the  town 
of  the  hotel  and  the  lounger. 

"I  would  not  have  believed  it!"  he  ex- 
claimed under  his  breath.  "  She  was  so — so 
little-girl-like,  with  her  color  coming  and  go- 
ing just  like  a  living,  breathing  rose;  and 
shy  as  a  wood  nymph,  she  was — but  quick  to 
see  a  thing,  and  staunch  and  true  as  steel!" 
Here  he  paused  in  his  rapid  renewals  of 
memory.  There  was  the  explanation :  "  She 
was  quick  to  see  a  thing — and  she  was 
staunch  and  true  as  steel!"  These  very 
qualities  had  made  her  what  she  was,  she 
had  carried  her  quickness  to  see  things,  and 
her  adherence  to  truth  too  far — under  the 
lash  of  work  and  poverty,  while  the  "  little- 
girl-like  roses"  of  joy  had  been  cruelly 
crushed  in  the  ten  years  since  he  had  seen 
her.  Could  they  ever  by  any  process  be  re- 
stored to  even  a  ghost  of  their  former  bloom- 
ing? If  not,  then  he — 

"111  try  it,"  he  muttered  after  a  time, 
with  dogged  determination  as  he  rode  fu- 
riously on  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  LETTER 

IT  was  one  Friday  morning  in  late  Octo- 
ber that  Alice  Halsey  sat  in  her  wheel  chair 
by  the  center  table  in  the  living  room  of  the 
little  brown  cottage  that  had  been  "home" 
to  the  Halsey  girls  all  their  lives.  Mary  sat 
opposite  her  in  quite  the  accustomed  way. 
But  the  two  young  women  gazed  at  each 
other  with  tense  concentration. 

Mary  was  still  holding  an  astonishing 
letter,  her  vigorous  hand  tightly  gripped,  all 
the  energy  of  her  body  tensed  to  climax  in 
the  strained  gaze  of  her  gray-blue  eyes, — as 
though  she  were  trying  to  break  into  and 
visualize  the  eternal  sweep  of  things  to  defi- 
nitely explain,  interpret  and  forecast  the 
outcome  of  this  astounding  thing  which  had 
come  to  them. 

Alice,  in  her  chair,  bent  to  her  sister, 

7 


8  Uncle  Mary 

startled  and  helpless,  her  delicate  face  full 
of  conflicting  things,  her  tapering  fingers 
tightly  interlaced.  The  two  had  already 
gone  through  the  first  state  of  amazement, 
which  even  the  unopened  envelope  had 
started,  with  its  post  mark,  "New  York 
City,"  and  return  address  of  a  prominent 
bank  there  whose  name  was  familiar  to 
them.  Then  they  had  passed  on  through 
three  excited  readings  of  the  letter;  but, 
when  Mary's  eyes  came  back  to  earth,  Alice 
urged  once  more,  "Read  it  again!" 

And  Mary  began  instantly,  just  as  though 
she  were  used  to  obeying  orders,  which  was 
far  from  the  truth: 

Miss  Mary  Halsey, 

Sunfield,  Mass., 
My  dear  Miss  Halsey: — 

A  little  girl  of  five  years  and  delightful  personal- 
ity, of  which  you  only  receive  a  dim  impression  from 
enclosed  photograph,  has  been  committed  to  us  with 
instructions  that  she  be  sent  at  once  to  you.  She 
is  an  orphan  with  no  near  relatives,  and  she  is  en- 
trusted to  you  for  an  unlimited  time  with  a  bank  ac- 
count here  upon  which  you  may  draw  three  thousand 
dollars  per  year.  You  will  please  report  here  the 


FOR   ANSWER    MARY   GAVE   HER   A    LOOK   THAT   WAS 
ALL-SUFFICIENT  " 


A  Letter  9 

first  of  each  month  as  to  her  health.  Accordingly, 
Miss  Elizabeth  Lee  Starling,  properly  attended,  is  on 
her  way,  will  arrive  at  your  nearest  station,  Barrin- 
ger,  on  the  early  morning  train  of  Saturday,  and  an 
hour  later  by  taxi  at  your  door. 

Hoping  this  will  meet  your  pleasure,  we  are, 

Eespectfully  yours, 


Mary's  hand  dropped  with  some  relaxa- 
tion after  the  fourth  reading,  and  Alice, 
with  lips  that  quivered,  ventured  to  give  ex- 
pression to  the  exclamation  which  had  been 
upon  them  from  the  first  reading : 

"It  is  Elwood's  child!" 

"Never,"  returned  Mary  vehemently. 
"If  I  thought  so,  I  would  send  her  straight 
back — I  would  wire  them  that  on  no  account 
would  I  take  her!" 

"Mary!"  exclaimed  Alice  with  deprecat- 
ing agitation,  "it  is  wicked  for  you  to  feel 
as  you  do!" 

For  answer  Mary  gave  her  a  look  that 
was  all-sufficient.  The  subject  of  Elwood 
had  been  tensely  forbidden  by  Mary  many 
years  before,  and  the  look  was  simply  an 


10  Uncle  Mary 

electric  warning  that  the  ban  had  not  been 
lifted. 

There  was  intense  silence  for  several  mo- 
ments, then  Alice  asked,  with  repressed  emo- 
tion, the  impossible  question:  " Whose  child 
is  it?" 

Mary  turned  upon  her  with  almost  fierce- 
ness: "I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care!" 

"Of  course  you  are  not  going  to  take  her, 
then,"  Alice  ventured  again,  with  relief. 

"Yes,  but  I  am,"  with  cool  intensity  re- 
turned Mary;  "and  to-morrow  is  Saturday, 
so  there  is  no  time  to  lose  in  getting  ready 
for  her." 

There  was  an  immediate  return  of  Mary's 
accustomed  energy.  Something  must  be 
done,  and  she  was  on  normal  ground.  Alice 
relaxed  correspondingly  and  determined  to 
talk,  whatever  Mary  might  answer.  This 
was  too  astonishing  a  thing  to  keep  silent 
over. 

"Well,  if  you  are  going  to  take  the  child, 
what  are  you  going  to  say  to  people?  The 
letter  does  not  tell  you  anything." 


A  Letter  11 

"I  shall  tell  people  nothing — just  exactly 
nothing,  which  is  all  I  know." 

"Mary,  you  can't  do  that!" 

4 'You  just  wait  and  see,"  said  Mary 
evenly. 

"But,"  Alice  would  persist,  "why  don't 
you  write  the  bank  and  ask  them  to  tell  you 
something  about  her,  and  why  she  is  sent  to 
you?" 

"Because,  in  the  first  place,  I  don't  want 
to  know;  and  in  the  second,  what  time  is 
there  to  write — she  is  on  her  way,  now, 
probably.  More  than  all  that,  this  letter  is 
of  the  final  variety.  It  says  as  plainly  as 
words  could  that  no  more  is  to  be  told  me." 

"You  could  telegraph  them  not  to  send 
her,"  Alice  put  in  at  last  desperately. 

"But  I  am  not  going  to,"  Mary  reiterated 
firmly,  "for  I  want  her;  and,  as  I  said  be- 
fore, I  don't  care  to  know  where  she  comes 
from.  Now  I  am  going  to  work  to  get  ready 
for  her." 

In  one  astonishing  hour  Mary  Halsey  had 
passed  from  the  typical  New  England 


12  Uncle  Mary 


spirit,  which  demands  minute  information 
in  any  matter  of  moment,  to  the  freedom  of 
the  idealist,  who  mounts  the  wings  of  oppor- 
tunity and  looks  not  to  the  cords  which  have 
hitherto  bound  him.  And  could  Alice  have 
seen  into  Mary's  heart  at  that  moment,  she 
would  have  realized  that  her  sister  had  long 
been  a  being  altogether  unknown  to  her, 
though  they  had  lived  their  lives  together, 
and  for  ten  years  had  lived  alone, — so  close 
that  they  almost  breathed  together,  their 
friends  would  have  said. 

"But,  Mary,  think!"  Alice  came  again, 
as  Mary  started  for  the  door;  "we  can't 
take  care  of  a  little  child!"  And  Alice's 
cheeks  grew  pink  with  agitation.  "We 
don't  know  how,  and  I — "  her  voice  trailed 
off  as  her  helplessness  came  over  her  with  a 
weight  she  had  never  known  before. 

"We  are  women,"  returned  Mary  lacon- 
ically. 

"Oh, — I  know — but  your  sewing — " 

"She  can  be  company  for  you — or  I  will 
manage  that  when  the  time  comes,"  Mary 


A  Letter  13 

added,  realizing  suddenly  that  children 
were  not  always  desirable  company  for  help- 
less people. 

It  did  not  occur  to  either  of  them  then 
that  the  letter  had  said  there  was  to  be  at 
Mary's  command  three  thousand  dollars  a 
year.  And  if  it  had,  they  would  have  felt 
that  this  sum  was  to  be  spent  only  for  the 
child,  never  realizing  that  the  child's  needs 
would  necessarily  include  theirs,  and  that 
the  money  was  Mary's  to  spend  to  make  the 
home  a  suitable  place  for  the  child,  and  that 
she  must  give  up  sewing  in  order  to  do  this. 
It  took  a  later  letter  to  make  all  this  plain. 

Mary  determined  now  to  end  all  further 
talk  and  said  with  emphatic  finality,  "I  am 
going  up  attic  to  get  ready  for  her." 

Alice  wanted  dreadfully  to  ask  what  Mary 
was  going  to  do,  but  she  knew  that  she  had 
gone  the  limit  with  questions,  so  without  a 
word  more  she  let  Mary  stride  from  the 
room  to  the  stairs  which  led  from  the  kitchen 
to  the  attic. 

With  what  impatience  Alice  waited  for 


14  Uncle  Mary 


some  sign  as  to  what  Mary  was  doing  up- 
stairs, can  only  be  guessed.  How  she  longed 
to  go,  too!  "It  was  dreadful  to  have  to  sit 
still  when  exciting  things  were  going  on," 
was  a  plaint  that  Alice  rarely  allowed  her- 
self to  make.  Then  her  nervous  hands  in- 
stinctively reached  for  the  wheels  with  a 
movement  that  was  full  of  unconscious 
grace,  while  the  chair  swung  aimlessly 
around  and  around  the  table  which  occupied 
the  center  of  this  combination  sitting  and 
dining  room.  Mary  was  gone  exasperat- 
tingly  long,  and  how  could  Alice  know  that 
every  other  moment  Mary  was  hungrily 
devouring  the  little  pictured  face  which  the 
letter  had  enclosed! 

"What  is  Mary  doing?"  she  said  to  her- 
self, again  and  again.  But  finally  the  firm 
steps  were  coming  down  the  stairs,  not  rap- 
idly, but  with  steady  care,  and,  with  flushed 
face  and  eyes  alight,  Mary  soon  appeared 
in  the  doorway  with  an  old-fashioned  crib 
of  solid  wood. 

Alice's  chair  stopped  and  her  hands  went 


A  Letter  15 

up.  "Mary!  She  can  never  sleep  in  that 
tfiing!" 

"Yes,  she  can,  too,  for  one  night,  or  even 
two,"  Mary  retorted.  "I  am  not  going  to 
buy  a  bed  for  her  to-day  and  have  every- 
body in  town  talking,  with  at  least  half  of 
them  right  here  in  our  way.  I  am  going  to 
have  that  child  all  Saturday  and  Sunday 
without  anybody  finding  out  she  is  here! 
Then  we  can  see  her  ourselves,  and  I  am 
going  to  fix  this  bed  for  her  so  she  can  be 
in  our  room  and  not  be  lonesome." 

Never  had  Mary's  heart  been  in  such  a 
tumult  as  it  was  now  over  the  thought 
of  this  child  who  was  coming — coming  to 
her!  To  hide  it  all,  she  set  the  crib  down 
in  their  bedroom,  beside  her  twin  bed — and 
Alice  instantly  longed  that  it  might  be  set 
by  hers !  But,  of  course,  that  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  Mary  would  have  to  look  after 
both  at  night. 

"It  won't  be  long  enough  for  her,"  said 
Alice,  anxiously,  her  wheel  chair  following 
Mary  into  the  bedroom. 


16  Uncle  Mary 

"Yes,  it  will,"  returned  Mary  with  scorn- 
ful confidence;  "I  make  all  five  year  old 
skirts  thirteen  inches  long ;  from  the  bottom 
of  the  skirts  to  the  floor  is  twelve  and  from 
the  waist  to  the  neck  is  nine,  with  nine  left 
for  the  neck  and  head."  Instantly  her 
tape-line  was  reeled  off  from  her  side  and 
the  length  of  the  crib  deftly  measured. 
"There,  I  knew  it!  She  will  be  an  exact 
fit,  with  several  inches  to  spare  for  tucking 
in  bed  clothes." 

"I  forgot  you  had  children  all  measured 
off  by  inches,"  said  Alice  meekly. 

"This  crib  was  made  in  the  old  times,  too, 
when  things  were  expected  to  last  a  while. 
They  didn't  dump  a  child  out  when  it  was 
a  year  old  and  buy  a  new  bed  for  her, 
though  I  do  admit  that  she  usually  had  to 
crawl  out  the  second  year  to  make  way  for 
the  next  comer.  Still,  they  made  them  long 
enough,  so  if  there  happened  to  be  a  gap  in 
the  line  a  new  bed  was  not  necessary." 

Under  Mary's  capable  hand,  and  with  the 
help  of  Alice,  that  little  old-time  bed,  which 


A  Letter  17 

their  grandfather  had  slept  in,  blossomed 
like  a  rose.  The  daintiest  little  mattress 
was  made  for  it,  blankets  were  devised  from 
some  packed  away  woolens,  a  little  comfort 
with  silken  flowers  and  zephyr  knots  of  blue 
was  fluffed  into  shape;  and  all  the  small 
sleepers  of  the  past  would  have  been  amazed 
to  see  the  old  crib  itself  slip  out  of  sight  into 
a  frilled  blue  sateen  cover!  It  was  the 
prettiest  little  bed  imaginable.  A  princess 
could  not  have  asked  for  a  better.  And 
that  common-place  October  day  was  simply 
transformed  for  these  two  women  who  had 
lived  so  many  years  alone. 

Again  and  again  as  they  had  sewed,  how- 
ever, Alice  had  to  go  back  to  the  mystery  of 
it,  and  force  Mary  to  discuss  various  phases 
thereof. 

"What  are  you  going  to  tell  folks?"  Alice 
questioned,  with  renewed  consciousness  of  a 
gaping  town. 

" Nothing,"  said  Mary,  again,  with  em- 
phatic brevity. 

"Mary!"  exclaimed  Alice,  "you  know  you 


18  Uncle  Mary 

can't  do  that!  You  will  have  to  tell  them 
something!" 

There  was  no  answer  and  Mary's  lips 
were  firm. 

"But  what  will  they  think?"  persisted 
Alice. 

"Whatever  they  want  to." 

"Then  I  am  going  to  tell  them  some- 
thing!" said  Alice  boldly. 

"No,  you  are  not,  either!"  was  another 
emphatic  response,  and  Alice  knew  in  her 
heart  that  what  Mary  decided  would  be 
done. 

"But,"  parried  Alice,  "there  is  no  use  in 
making  a  silly  mystery  of  it." 

"That  may  all  be,  but  it  is  a  mystery;  and, 
besides,  I  like  mystery.  It's  a  long  time 
since  we  stirred  up  the  town  any." 

Alice  was  silent  for  a  moment.  It  was 
not  pleasant  even  for  her  to  remember  just 
how  they,  as  a  family,  had  last  stirred  the 
town.  But  turning  from  this  quickly,  she 
said,  with  a  bit  of  pleading  in  her  tone, 
"Why  don't  you  tell  the  simple  truth  to 


A  Letter  19 


people,  all  about  the  letter  and  how  little 
you  know,  yourself?" 

" Because  they  will  fill  in  all  we  don't 
know,  and  be  absolutely  sure  they  are  right ; 
so  I  prefer  to  have  them  think  we  know  it 
all,  and  let  them  work  away  on  the  whole — 
tell  them  nothing — and  let  them  wriggle," 
Mary  smiled  grimly. 

"They  will  wriggle  certainly,"  admitted 
Alice  smiling  dimly  back ;  "but  I  think  there 
is  a  better  way  than  to  put  the  whole  town 
on  edge  with  curiosity — which  will  be  a  per- 
fectly natural  curiosity." 

"I  think  it  is  better  than  telling  the  little 
we  do  know,  and  then  have  Sophie  Stoneham 
argue  with  me  every  time  I  see  her  that  I 
am  doing  the  devil's  work  in  keeping  the 
child  away  from  people  who  ought  to  have 
her.  She  will  know  all  about  who  ought  to 
have  her.  And  then,  having  the  story 
change  and  grow  with  every  telling  would 
set  me  crazy.  The  fact  that  they  will  think 
we  know  all,  will  keep  them  within  bounds, 
because  folks  don't  like  to  be  caught  guess- 


20  Uncle  Mary 

ing  wrong.  The  whole  town  may  turn  into 
a  detective  agency  if  it  wants  to, — which  it 
will  certainly  do,  anyway, — and  turn  up  the 
universe  to  find  the  facts.  I  can  hear 
Sophie  Stoneham  holding  forth  on  the  mat- 
ter as  she  sees  it.  You  don't  come  against 
people  as  I  do,  Alice,  or  you  would  find  out 
that  silence  has  many  virtues.  You  don't 
ever  have  it  to  unsay,  and  not  often  to  apol- 
ogize for." 

Alice  sighed  acquiescence.  Mary  always 
got  the  best  of  it  in  an  argument ;  and,  even 
if  she  didn't,  Mary's  decisions  had  come  to 
be  law. 


CHAPTER  III 

MARY 

IF  the  gray  late  October  day  was  trans- 
formed for  these  two  from  quiet  routine 
into  a  thing  of  excitement  and  expectation, 
the  night  was  equally  lively  for  Mary.  She 
could  not  sleep  for  thought  of  the  little  child 
who  was  to  come  to  her — to  her !  She  must 
not  disturb  Alice,  of  course,  but  how  she 
longed  to  make  a  light  and  gaze  and  gaze 
upon  the  little  picture !  It  was  already  in- 
delibly printed  upon  her  brain — every  cun- 
ning curl  that  framed  the  small  round  face, 
the  laugh  that  lit  the  child's  eyes  and  held 
the  dear  sweet  lips  open  to  show  a  shining 
row  of  even  white  teeth, — the  pudgy  fist 
stuck  under  the  chin,  were  all  clearly  there 
in  her  mind — but  she  wanted  to  hold  them 
before  her  eyes  and  drink  in  every  detail 
again.  At  last  she  fell  asleep,  but  only  to 

21 


22  Uncle  Mary 

dream  of  a  fairy  land  of  laughing  little  folk, 
skipping,  dancing,  racing  over  green  fields 
and  under  billowing  snow-clouds  which  were 
as  gay  as  the  children  in  their  field  of  azure 
blue! 

At  the  first  hint  of  dawn  Alice  and  Mary 
were  both  awake,  and  Mary  was  soon  upon 
her  feet  to  begin  that  day  of  days.  Alice 
wanted  to  do  the  same,  but  Mary  urged  that 
she  rest  longer — a  most  desirable  thing  for 
Alice  herself,  but  also  convenient  for  Mary 
to  seek  again  that  small  pictured  face,  alone. 
Before  she  could  leave  the  room,  however, 
Alice  forestalled  her: 

"Mary,  let  me  have  the  picture  before 
you  go.  I  want  to  see  again  how  she  looks." 

Mary  was  silent  a  perceptible  instant; 
then  she  said,  with  unaccustomed  artfulness, 
"All  right,  as  soon  as  I  light  the  fire  in  the 
stove  I  will  bring  it  to  you." 

Alice  stared,  for  she  was  sure  Mary  had 
the  picture  with  her  at  that  moment;  but 
remembering,  as  she  was  destined  to  do 
many  times  in  the  future,  that  Mary  had  all 


Mary  23 

the  rights  in  the  matter  and  she  none,  she 
refrained  from  comment. 

Mary  kept  her  face  turned  away,  dressed 
with  her  usual  dispatch,  and  hurrying  out 
to  the  kitchen  rattled  the  stove  lid  indus- 
triously with  one  hand  after  lighting  the 
fire,  while  she  slipped  the  picture  from  her 
pocket  with  the  other  and  feasted  her  eyes 
once  more.  Then  she  took  turns  washing 
one  hand  at  the  sink  while  she  still  held  it 
with  the  other.  When  able  no  longer  to  dis- 
semble, she  carried  it  in  to  Alice — who  knew 
full  well  by  this  time  that  it  came  from  the 
pocket  of  the  dress  Mary  was  wearing. 

Neither  Mary  Halsey,  herself,  nor  any 
one  who  knew  her,  had  ever  guessed  the  dif- 
ference between  her  interior  and  exterior. 
The  village  people  when  they  met  her  saw  a 
spare,  erect  figure  and  a  face  from  which 
youth  had  not  gone — had  no  right  to  be 
gone,  for  she  was  yet  in  her  twenties, — 
twenty-seven,  to  be  exact.  And  her  clean, 
fresh  complexion  confirmed  the  youth,  if  one 
noticed  it.  But  there  were  firm  lines  about 


24  Uncle  Mary 

her  mouth  and  eyes  which  indicated  a  full 
measure  of  care  and  responsibility,  while 
her  rare  smile  consisted  mainly  of  high 
gleams  piercing  the  steady  blue-gray  eyes, 
leaving  lids  unsympathetic  and  giving  the 
mouth  a  touch  of  sarcasm  which  gradually 
robbed  it  of  its  warmth.  These  were  the 
things  one  noticed  most.  Her  manner  of 
dressing  was  always  severe,  out-of-date  and 
exceedingly  plain.  Her  skirts  were  down 
about  her  heels,  instead  of — well,  where  the 
war  brought  them  for  most  women.  She 
rarely  had  a  new  dress,  in  fact.  Alice  con- 
formed to  the  same  standards,  but  as  she 
didn't  walk  it  wasn't  so  noticeable, — and  the 
town,  somehow,  knew  that  Alice  did  as  Mary 
said,  though  Alice  was  the  older  by  two 
years.  But  Alice's  dark  hair  was  always 
attractively  arranged,  while  Mary's  was  se- 
verity itself.  It  was  light  golden  brown, 
soft  of  texture,  and  might  have  been  beau- 
tiful in  its  own  natural  waves  had  it  not 
been  tightly  held  back  for  so  many  years. 
This,  in  general,  was  the  personality  that 


Mary  25 

Mary  presented  the  village  people  who  had 
watched  her  hurrying  to  and  from  the  var- 
ious homes  along  the  highway  for  at  least 
ten  years  past,  winter  and  summer,  in  snow, 
sleet  or  wind,  in  spring  sunshine  or  summer 
heat,  while  she  kept  everybody's  clothes  in 
good  shape  in  the  village  and  for  miles 
around  as  well.  The  longer  trips  must  be 
made  in  good  weather,  so  that  she  might 
without  fail  be  back  to  Alice  for  the  night. 
Besides  this,  she  and  Alice  made  children's 
dresses  for  Barringer  stores. 

A  very  prosaic  exterior,  indeed,  Mary 
Halsey  presented  for  the  village  eye,  and 
nobody  dreamed  that  the  interior  corres- 
ponded perfectly.  They  knew  she  was  in- 
dustrious, capable  and  the  incarnation  of 
honor,  according  to  strictest  New  England 
standards;  and,  if  she  was  sharp  in  her 
judgments  and  sarcastic  in  her  humor,  this 
was  the  inward  that  fitted  into  the  outward 
picture  she  presented  to  them. 

As  for  Mary's  obliviousness  of  the  outer 
and  inner  difference,  it  came  from  ignor- 


26  Uncle  Mary 

ance  of  the  other  side  of  things.  Her  knowl- 
edge concerning  her  own  exterior  grew  con- 
stantly less  and  less,  for  she  spent  little  time 
before  a  mirror,  while  the  interior,  so  mar- 
velously  at  antipodes,  was  a  poignantly  con- 
scious thing. 

Who  would  have  dreamed  that  Mary  Hal- 
sey,  New  England  "old  maid,"  (as  she  was 
already  classified  because  of  her  severity 
of  dress  and  manner)  had  a  husband?  No- 
body, of  course.  Any  such  statement  would 
instantly  have  been  denied.  And  yet  Mary's 
inner  self  stoutly  proclaimed  that  she  had! 
Few  people  remembered  that  in  Mary's 
early  youth,  at  seventeen,  to  be  exact,  she 
had  made  a  trip  away  and  come  back  with 
fresh  roses  in  her  cheeks,  twin  stars  in  her 
quiet  eyes,  and  dancing  light  on  her  fair  hair 
which,  somehow,  had  learned  new  ways  in 
the  six  weeks'  stay.  And  people  had  ex- 
claimed on  meeting  her,  "How  fine  you  look, 
'Mary !"  "That  southern  climate  must  agree 
with  you !"  And  no  one  knew  that  a  young 
man  had  come  to  see  Mary  Halsey  from  that 


Mary  27 

southern  town,  for  nobody  had  had  a  glimpse 
of  him.  He  came  one  night  and  went  away 
immediately.  Just  before  that  Elwood  Hal- 
sey, the  only  brother  of  Alice  and  Mary,  had 
quarreled  with  his  father  and  left  never  to 
be  heard  from  again;  the  father  had  died 
almost  immediately,  and  with  family  calami- 
ties coming  in  hurdles,  one  after  another,  as 
they  often  do,  Alice  fell  from  a  step  ladder 
and  was  never  able  to  walk  again.  Conse- 
quently events  in  the  Halsey  family  were 
too  precipitous,  entirely,  at  that  period  for 
even  New  England  energy  to  keep  up  with 
every  detail.  So  the  village  gossips  never 
got  hold  of  the  fact  that  Mary  Halsey  had 
found  a  lover  in  that  one  trip  south,  or  that 
she  uncompromisingly  dismissed  him  on  his 
one  visit  to  her  later ;  but  they  did  observe 
that  Mary's  dancing  hair  fell  promptly  into 
straight  lines,  and  the  twin  star  lights  flitted 
forth  from  her  eyes.  They  knew,  also,  that 
following  the  family  calamities  she  had 
taken  up  the  sewing  for  everybody  in  the 
village  that  could  afford  it,  and  that  she  gave 


28  Uncle  Mary 

Alice  every  care.  They  thought  it  dread- 
ful, at  first,  that  Alice  should  be  in  the  little 
house  alone  all  the  days  while  Mary  was  out ; 
but  so  rapidly  capable  did  Alice  and  the 
wheel  chair  prove  themselves,  that  it  was 
nothing  unusual  to  hear  wheels  turning  in 
response  to  a  knock  on  the  door,  and  to  be 
received  with  as  much  ease  as  if  Alice  were 
free-footed  and  strong. 

Mention  of  Mary  Halsey's  husband  in- 
deed would  have  startled  the  village!  But 
he  was  a  reality  with  Mary !  She  had  cher- 
ished a  man's  love  in  her  heart,  and  nour- 
ished hers  for  him  through  all  the  years. 
He  was  hers  and  she  was  his  for  time  and 
eternity,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned.  That 
she  had  heard  from  him  only  twice  meant 
nothing  to  this  vital,  time-abiding  love 
affair.  It  was  a  marriage  of  hearts,  for 
Mary,  that  nothing  could  dissolve,  though 
even  that  in  source  was  but  a  thing  of  a  few 
weeks'  association  and  a  southern  picnic 
with  a  day's  disclosing,  when  Mary  had 
gone  on  that  six  weeks'  visit  to  a  Kentucky 


Mary  29 

cousin.  No  one  had  dreamed  that  a  trip  of 
two  hours  up  the  river  in  a  row  boat — just 
a  boy  and  a  girl  who  had  daringly  left  the 
picnic  party — could  mean  such  momentous 
things.  The  southern  cousins,  accustomed 
to  harmless  flirtations  of  no  moment,  had 
never  afterward  connected  the  two;  and 
there  was  never  any  revelation  from  them, 
or  questions  asked  by  Mary,  later. 

If  Mary  had  ever  told  Alice  of  her  love 
affair,  the  mere  telling  would  have  pre- 
vented its  dropping  into  morbid  fancies, 
while  Alice's  sympathy  would  undoubtedly 
have  greatly  softened  the  sharpness  of  the 
bitter-sweet  experience.  But  keeping  it 
close,  pent  within  her  own  heart,  she  grew 
fantastic  in  her  love,  and  very  bitter  against 
her  brother  Elwood,  who,  had  he  stood  by 
the  family,  would  have  made  things  very 
different.  Alice  could  not  from  the  first 
understand  her  sister's  bitterness,  and  she 
would  have  been  amazed  at  her  devotion  to 
a  shadow.  But  the  shadow  was  suddenly 
materializing ;  for,  though  Mary  knew  noth- 


30  Uncle  Mary 

ing  of  the  physical  habitation  of  her  mate, 
yet  now,  after  years  of  solitary  devotion, 
she  was  to  be  miraculously  presented  with  a 
child !  A  child  that  was  to  be  her  very  own 
— no  matter  where  she  came  from,  just  now ! 
And  Mary's  well-trained  imagination  had 
gone  out  to  meet  and  to  claim  her  with  a 
ready  motherhood  that  would  have  amazed 
her  sister  Alice-.  "Her  child"  was  coming! 
That  was  the  song  of  Mary's  heart  as  she 
flew  about  the  kitchen  on  this  morning  of 
mornings. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AN  ARRIVAL 

BREAKFAST  was  ready  to  serve  on  the 
minute  of  seven — as,  of  course,  it  could  have 
been  two  hours  before.  Then  Mary  stood 
at  the  window  watching,  her  expectation  too 
keen  for  superficial  nervousness,  while  Alice 
sat  in  her  wheel  chair  with  white,  interlaced 
fingers,  and  eyes  fixed  too  upon  the  front 
windows.  There  was  an  instant's  whirr  of 
a  motor,  at  last,  and  Mary  threw  open  the 
house  door  at  the  moment  the  taxi  door 
swung  round  revealing  the  profile  of  a  uni- 
formed nurse  who  did  not  get  out.  But  an 
alert  young  man  stepped  immediately  to  the 
ground,  then  reached  for  the  hand  of  a  little 
girl  in  snug  brown  wrap,  furs  and  cap  to 
match,  helping  her  uncertain  step  carefully 
to  the  running  board  and  thence  to  the  walk 
in  front.  Mary  met  them  just  outside  the 

31 


32  Uncle  Mary 

door,  and  the  introductions  were  skillfully 
managed  by  the  capable  young  man,  though 
Mary  could  never  have  told  just  how.  She 
got  them  into  the  house  successfully,  how- 
ever, and  introduced  them  to  Alice,  who 
swung  about  to  meet  them  in  her  wheel 
chair,  with  ready  if  somewhat  excited  grace. 
Then,  while  the  young  man  went  out  to  see 
about  bringing  in  a  trunk  and  satchel,  Alice 
put  both  arms  about  the  little  brown  bundle 
which  was  Elizabeth  Lee  Starling,  and 
gazed  warmly  into  her  eyes  until  the  child 
smiled  back  at  her.  Mary,  though  watching 
for  the  trunk,  noted  this  with  a  quick  stab, 
and  said  with  energy : 

"We  must  take  Elizabeth's  wraps  off  at 
once;  it  is  warm  in  here."  So  she  began 
vigorously  unfastening  and  removing,  while 
the  little  girl  submitted  with  the  unmoved 
air  of  children  when  subjected  to  many  new 
experiences  to  which  they  have  no  key  and 
against  which  they  have  ceased  to  struggle. 

After  placing  the  trunk  with  the  chauf- 
feur's help,  the  young  man  left  immediately 


An  Arrival  33, 


— almost  precipitately  it  would  have  seemed 
if  Mary  and  Alice  had  not  been  too  excited 
over  the  child  to  notice. 

Elizabeth  Lee  standing  before  them  was 
indeed  a  beautiful  child  with  rare  brown 
eyes  and  curling  brown  hair,  a  dear  smile 
and  rosy  cheeks ;  perfect  in  form  and  round 
with  the  fullness  of  health.  Then,  to  crown 
the  sweet  vision  which  was  presented  to 
these  two  heart-hungry  women,  she  was  ex- 
quisitely dressed  in  a  simple  little  white 
gown  of  finest  materials,  with  every  acces- 
sory corresponding. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  they  took  little 
note  of  anything  else,  and  it  was  some 
minutes  before  they  remembered  breakfast. 
Then  the  little  girl's  eyes  had  wandered  to 
the  set  table,  and  Mary  flew  to  the  kitchen 
for  the  hot  things  which  were  all  ready.  So 
they  were  soon  gathered  about  the  snowy 
breakfast  table,  Alice  swinging  easily  to  her 
place  in  the  wheel  chair,  Mary  lifting  Eliza- 
beth into  a  high  chair  before  a  second  plate, 
then  seating  herself  in  a  very  straight,  un- 


34  Uncle  Mary 


compromising  chair  that  just  suited  her 
uncompromising  exterior.  The  sun  danced 
in  upon  them  from  the  east  window  as 
though  challenging  the  three  to  life's  hap- 
piness. 

Mary  was  mistress  of  ceremonies. 

" Elizabeth,  I  guess  you're  hungry,  riding 
so  early  in  the  morning;  I'll  give  you  some- 
thing to  eat  first  and  let  Alice  wait,"  said 
Mary,  a  thrill  at  her  heart  and  sudden 
sharpness  of  tone  to  hide  it. 

The  child's  big  brown  eyes  turned  to  her 
with  a  wistful  look  gathering  in  their 
depths. 

" Everybody  says  'Libbie  Lee,'  came 
slowly  from  the  little  lips. 

"I  like  Elizabeth  much  better,"  said  Mary 
briskly,  without  looking  at  the  little  girl. 
"That  is  what  I  am  going  to  call  you,"  she 
added  decidedly.  "It  takes  too  long  to  say 
Libbie  Lee." 

Alice,  with  quick  intuition,  laid  a  hand 
upon  the  child's  and  bent  toward  her  with 
a  smile  that  instantly  brought  one  in  return. 


An  Arrival  35 


"  You've  got  time  to  say  Libbie  Lee,  hasn't 
you — Auntie  Alice?"  came  quickly  from 
the  little  girl  with  the  falling  inflection  of 
certainty. 

"Yes,  dear,  I  surely  have,"  laughed  back 
Auntie  Alice,  in  delight  with  the  name  the 
child  had  chosen  for  her,  unbidden, — such 
delight,  indeed,  that  she  spoke  with  a  new 
note  of  authority  to  her  aggressive  sister. 

"Mary,  get  some  syrup  to  put  on  Libbie 
Lee's  pancakes." 

But  revolutions  are  not  so  quickly  accom- 
plished with  natures  like  Mary  Halsey's. 

"Syrup!  You  never  know  what  sort  of 
stuff  syrup  may  be  made  of,  but  honey  is  al- 
ways safe.  I  will  get  some  honey  for  her." 

The  golden-combed  honey  ranked  equally 
in  acceptability  with  syrup,  so  far  as  Libbie 
Lee  was  concerned;  so,  as  the  sweet  fluid 
flowed  over  her  pancakes,  she  began  politely, 
"Thank  you," — then  stopped,  plainly  puz- 
zled for  a  moment,  only  to  go  on  confidently, 
—"Uncle  Mary." 

Alice  laughed  uncontrollably.     She  could 


36  Uncle  Mary 

not  have  helped  it  if  the  heavens  had  fallen 
— and  she  almost  felt  that  they  would  when 
she  could  look  into  Mary's  face.  Conster- 
nation, grief  and  almost  anger  swept  quickly 
over  the  usually  inscrutable  mask  that  Mary 
carried. 

It  was  Mary  who  first  found  words: 

"  l Uncle  Mary.' — What  do  you  mean  by 
calling  me  Uncle  ? ' '  And  there  was  strained 
sharpness  in  her  tone. 

The  child  turned  startled  and  bewildered 
eyes  toward  her:  "Why,  there  was  Auntie 
Abbie  and  Uncle  Gary  at  the  'Home' — and 
here  there's  Auntie  Alice  and  Uncle  Mary!" 
She  emphasized  the  little  difference  in  the 
names  with  an  aggrieved  defense  that  was 
really  funny  to  both  of  them,  and  took 
much  of  the  sudden  sting  which  Mary 
had  first  found  in  the  name  applied  to 
her. 

Little  did  she  dream  how  the  name  was  to 
go  out  and  sweep  the  town  with  its  aptness ! 
There  was  so  much  more  to  think  of,  just 
then,  that  she  made  no  further  ado  over  it, 


An  Arrival  37 


and  had  no  thought  that  it  would  persist, 
even  in  the  child's  mind. 

Breakfast  over,  at  last,  and  Libbie  Lee's 
little  abdomen  swelled  to  its  utmost  with 
pancakes  and  golden  honey,  Mary  Halsey 
essayed  to  make  the  day  move  on  as  days  at 
home,  when  she  was  not  sewing,  had  a  habit 
of  doing.  She  went  at  once  out  to  the 
kitchen  to  "do"  the  dishes,  leaving  Alice 
and  the  little  girl  to  their  own  devices. 

And  conversation,  from  the  very  first,  did 
not  languish  between  the  two  that  were 
left. 

"Auntie  Alice,  why  don't  you  walk  round 
like  other  folks?"  came  in  the  kindest  little 
tone  of  curiosity  from  the  small  stranger. 

"Why,  because  my  feet  are  just  no-ac- 
count feet,"  Alice  returned,  smiling  into  the 
child's  earnest  face. 

Then  Libbie  Lee  stepped  up  to  her  and 
said  eagerly,  "May  I  peek  at  them?" 

For  answer  Alice  lifted  her  long,  light 
skirt  and  displayed  two  perfectly  correct 
feet,  clad  in  substantial  slippers. 


38  Uncle  Mary 

1  'Why,  Auntie  Alice,  they  are  all  right — 
unless  they  are  bad.  Auntie  Abbie  says 
mine  are  sometimes;  but  they  are  bad  be- 
.cause  they  go  to  places  they  shouldn't,  and 
yours,  I  guess,  are  bad  'cause  they  won't  go 
at  all !"  And  the  little  laugh  rang  out  mer- 
rily. 

Libbie  Lee  felt  thoroughly  at  home  with 
Auntie  Alice,  it  was  clear.  Institutional 
children,  being  accustomed  to  contacts  of 
all  sorts,  take  what  comes  to  them  with  a 
philosophy  that  stands  them  in  good  stead ; 
if  it  is  freedom,  they  make  much  of  it,  if  it 
is  submission  to  authority — why  trouble  to 
rebel?  So  it  must  be.  A  new  experience 
had  come  to  the  little  girl,  and  finding  Alice 
so  approachable  and  responsive,  she  was 
making  good  use  of  her  time  while  Mary 
was  out  of  the  room  to  find  out  many  things 
she  wanted  to  know. 

Alice  laughed  at  the  child's  interest  in  her 
useless  feet,  and  answered  her  accusation 
that  they  were  bad  because  they  would  not 
go  at  all,  with  an  admission  that  "this  was 


An  Arrival  39 


about  right,  she  guessed."  "But,"  she 
added,  "we  must  not  blame  the  feet  too 
much,  for  the  back  was  bad  first." 

The  little  girl  looked  in  quiet  surprise 
from  the  feet  up  to  Alice's  back;  then  down 
to  her  own  little  feet,  which  she  moved  in- 
quiringly about,  at  the  same  time  feeling  of 
her  own  back. 

"Why,  feet  are  tied  to  backs,  aren't  they? 
And  just  can't  help  doing  what  backs  say, 
can  they?" 

"Yes,  but  the  head  tells  the  back  what  to 
do,  you  know,"  laughed  Auntie  Alice;  "and 
so  you  have  come  up  to  the  real  trouble  at 
last,  I  suspect." 

There  was  more  in  this  than  the  little  girl 
dreamed,  for  Alice  Halsey  sometimes  felt 
that  her  energetic  sister  thought  if  she  would 
only  try  determinedly  enough,  the  helpless 
feet  would  go  about  as  they  once  did — and 
there  were  times  when  she  cruelly  upbraided 
herself  that  they  did  not ! 

But  Libbie  Lee,  all  oblivious,  went  on  with 
investigations  concerning  her  own  brown- 


40  Uncle  Mary 

curled  head.  At  last  she  exclaimed  with 
delight : 

"It  is  my  head  that  makes  my  feet  go! 
My  thinker  up  here  just  thinks,  'Go!'  and  I 
go  right  off!  Auntie  Alice  you  must — " 
then  she  hesitated,  trying  unconsciously  to 
get  hold  of  the  initial  force  of  movement, 
"you've  just  got  to  make  your  thinker  act 
right,  then  you  can  walk  just  like  me!" 
And  she  went  briskly  off. 

"Well,"  smiled  Alice,  a  little  slowly,  "I 
will  go  right  to  work  at  it  and  see  if  I  can 
make  the  old  thinker  do  as  it  should.  But 
you  must  give  me  time,  for  it  has  been  doing 
wrong  a  long  while." 

"I'm  going  to  help  you,"  said  the  child, 
confidently. 

Having  finished  this  source  of  interest, 
the  little  girl  looked  inquiringly  around  the 
room  at  the  chintz-covered  couch,  sewing 
machine  and  big  base-burner,  which  heated 
the  entire  little  one-floor  and  attic  abode. 
Then  she  tried  the  two  old  rockers  with 
chintz  seats  and  backs,  and  inspected  two 


An  Arrival  41 


straight  chairs  which  held  down  two  unoc- 
cupied corners,  her  eyes  turning  at  last  to 
the  tall  secretary  which  occupied  the  space 
between  the  two  back  windows. 

" What's  this?"  she  asked,  pointing  to 
it. 

And  Alice,  smiling  at  her  curiosity,  and 
in  a  sort  of  reaction  from  the  talk  about 
her  own  useless  feet,  which  had  left  her 
heart  a  little  sore,  said  aloud  something 
which  had  often  come  whimsically  to  her 
mind.  She  looked  at  the  grim  old  piece  of 
furniture  of  which  she  had  stood  in  awe  as 
a  child,  since  she  was  never  allowed  to  open 
it  and  replied: 

"Oh,  that  holds  Mary's  chains  which  tie 
her  down." 

Instantly  realizing  the  possible  conse- 
quences of  such  a  revelation,  Alice  in  alarm 
cried  quickly,  "Don't  tell  Mary  I  said 
that!"  Then  tried  to  cover  any  suggesti- 
bility the  remark  might  hold  with  the  com- 
monplace statement:  "It  is  full  of  papers 
that  are  important,  and  nobody  goes  into  it 


42  Uncle  Mary 


but  Mary.  So  you  and  I  mustn't  think  or 
talk  about  it  any  more." 

The  little  girl  looked  soberly  back  at  her, 
and  said,  "No."  But  it  did  not  go  out  of 
her  mind,  although  she  did  not  talk  about 
it  any  more,  since  children  of  "Homes" 
must  do  as  they  are  told. 

Meanwhile  Mary  was  having  trouble  try- 
ing to  make  things  "go"  as  usual  in  the 
kitchen;  for  there  were  very  diverting 
things.  First,  "the  milk  boy"  had  arrived, 
shambled  up  to  the  back  kitchen  door  and 
tried  an  unyielding  knob ;  then  lifted  a  rug- 
ged face  of  amazement  as  Mary  turned  a 
key  to  open  the  door  to  him.  He  had  al- 
ways walked  right  in,  as  far  as  his  memory 
ran  back,  which  was  some  distance,  since  he 
had  been  milk-boy  to  the  Halsey's  for  at 
least  a  generation. 

"I'll  empty  it  here,"  said  Mary,  hastily 
producing  a  small  tin  pail ;  and  then  remem- 
bering, cried  excitedly,  "That  won't  do,  Jim 
Peters!  I've  got  to  have  five  pints  this 
morning  and  to-morrow  morning — and  all 


An  Arrival  43 


the  time  now !  Let  me  get  the  big  pail  and 
you  take  it  out  and  fill  it !" 

Jim  Peters  looked  helplessly  at  her,  as  if 
his  senses  were  reeling.  Five  pints  of  milk 
daily  for  the  Halsey  girls!  He  pondered 
over  it  as  he  hurried  unsteadily  toward  his 
wagon.  Never  before  had  he  left  over  a 
pint — well,  he  might  once,  or  even  twice, 
have  left  a  quart.  But  five  pints — and  reg- 
ular, was  beyond  his  comprehension.  As  he 
shambled  back,  still  hastily,  Mary  was 
standing  at  the  door  ready  to  take  it  from 
him,  and  he  could  only  glance  furtively 
around  at  the  windows  for  a  solution  of  the 
mystery,  as  he  inquired  cautiously,  knowing 
well  that  Mary  Halsey  did  not  like  prying, 
"Got  comp'ny,  hev  ye?" 

"No,"  said  Mary  crisply,  taking  the  brim- 
ming pail  and  closing  the  door  promptly. 

Then  she  said  to  herself,  "Well,  he  doesn't 
know  much — "  adding  indignantly,  "but 
every  house  he  goes  to  will  get  that  and  he's 
just  begun  his  round!" 

"I   can  hear  him  now,"   she  went   on 


44  Uncle  Mary 

grimly,  hurrying  through  her  dishes  and 
keeping  one  ear  open  for  the  music  of  that 
little  high  treble  alternating  with  Alice 's  low 
voice  in  the  sitting  room,  though  she  could 
not  catch  what  they  were  saying.  She 
wouldn't  let  Alice  help  in  the  kitchen 
usually,  as  there  was  so  little  to  do  ordina- 
rily, and  she  did  not  "want  her  around  in  the 
way."  This  morning  she  would  have  liked 
to  have  her  come  for  an  excuse  to  bring  the 
little  stranger — but  there  was  the  milk  boy 
and  of  course  she  couldn't. 

She  followed  the  milk  boy  about  in  her 
thought:  "He'll  say,  'Mary  and  Alice  Hal- 
sey  must  be  going  to  keep  boarders.  They 
got  five  pints  of  milk  this  morning  and  want 
it  reg'lar.'  Between  here  and  the  Kembles 
he  will  have  decided  it's  boarders,  and  by 
night  everybody  in  town  will  know  it,  though 
of  course  Sophie  Stoneham  will  rip  him 
wide  open  with  questions  and  find  out  just 
how  many  facts  he  has !  Then  she  may  de- 
cide that  Alice  is  going  to  try  the  milk  cure, 
that  The  Banner  told  about  last  week. 


An  Arrival  45 


That's  the  only  hope  I  have;  but  she'll  be 
here  to  see  about  it  to-day.  Mercy !  I  must 
get  through  and  do  something  to  head  her 
off!" 

Excitement  rose  in  Mary  every  moment — 
and  no  wonder.  There  had  never  been  any- 
thing in  the  brown  cottage  of  the  Halseys 
so  beautiful  and  young  as  little  Libbie  Lee 
since  Alice  and  Mary  were  young  them- 
selves. In  fact  there  had  never  been  a 
superfluity  of  young  things  in  the  entire 
village.  New  England  folk  of  the  past  few 
generations  have  not  been  prolific  in  child- 
bearing,  and  inland  villages  like  Sunfield, 
brought  in  little  new  blood  and  few  new 
things  of  any  sort.  But  for  the  factory 
people  there  would  have  been  few  children, 
indeed.  The  village  was  seven  miles  away 
from  the  railroad,  and  while  a  few  auto- 
mobiles had  come  over  the  hills  and  found 
homes  in  the  old-time  barns,  they  had  not 
changed  the  even  tenor  of  the  place  as  to 
growth  and  innovations.  A  scattering  row 
of  houses  on  either  side  along  the  valley 


46  Uncle  Mary 

highway,  flanked  by  hills,  with  a  church 
steeple  rising  determinedly,  a  general  store 
or  two,  a  small  factory  and  a  school  house 
were  its  component  parts.  Back  of  the 
scattering  row  of  houses  stretched  at  vary- 
ing lengths,  small  farms  of  garden  and 
meadow  land,  freely  interspersed  with 
rocks,  and  bounded  by  the  hard-won,  ances- 
tral accumulations  of  preceding  rock-dig- 
gers. Piled  in  uneven  stretches  these  cast- 
out  bowlders  of  previous  generations  made 
picturesque  enclosures,  especially  when 
over-run  with  flowering  vines,  which  nature 
furnishes  in  abundance,  as  if  to  make  up 
for  the  bleakness  of  those  granite-filled 
hills. 

Mary  did  not  stop  to  philosophize  about 
the  town,  or  she  might  have  been  more  le- 
nient toward  its  desire  for  some  interesting 
developments  to  break  the  monotony  of  life. 
She  was  only  bent  upon  keeping  this  one 
bit  of  youth  and  charm  to  herself  for  two 
days! 

There  are  few  things  that  come  to  us  with- 


An  Arrival  47 


out  alloy,  however,  as  Mary  was  to  find 
out.  She  hurried  back  to  the  sitting  room, 
after  having  put  the  kitchen  to  rights,  and 
caught  from  Alice's  lips  something  which 
wound  up  with,  "Your  Uncle  Mary." 

She  appeared  at  the  door  on  the  instant 
while  a  speaking  face  said  sharply  to  Alice, 
" Don't  you  begin  that,  now!" 

Then  she  noted  that  Elizabeth,  as  she  had 
determined  to  call  her,  leaned  affectionately 
at  Alice's  knee.  Mary  went  at  once  to  the 
child  and  stooping,  for  pretext,  examined 
the  little  garter  to  adjust  an  imaginary 
wrinkle  in  the  stocking,  and  her  face  grew 
strangely  flushed  from  the  unaccustomed 
touch  of  little  rosy  knees. 

Alice,  noting  the  flush,  said  quickly, 
" You've  hurried  too  much  with  those 
dishes!" 

' '  No,  I  haven  ?t, ' '  returned  Mary  brusquely. 
"But  I  have  some  work  I  must  finish." 
And  she  sat  down  to  the  machine  and  began 
to  sew  rapidly. 

Libbie  Lee  looked  on  with  instant  interest, 


48  Uncle  Mary 

watching  the  wheel  whirl  and  a  piece  of 
goods  fly  from  under  its  crooked  foot.  This 
was  absorbing  enough  for  a  space,  but  soon 
the  child's  eye  fixed  upon  Mary's  face  most 
disconcertingly.  She  was  not  a  child  who 
talked  every  minute.  She  alternated  be- 
tween thinking  and  talking ;  storing  up  am- 
munition, so  to  speak,  one  moment  and 
firing  it  off  the  next. 

Mary  bore  the  child's  scrutiny  uncon- 
cernedly as  long  as  she  could,  then  she 
glanced  up  with  the  high  gleam  in  her  eye. 

Libbie  Lee  took  it  soberly:  "Why  don't 
your  eyes  wrinkle  up  underside  when  you 
smile?" 

Mary  replied  in  unconscious  defense: 
"They  smile  just  the  way  they  were  made 
to  smile." 

"Auntie  Alice's  wrinkle  up  all  'round," 
persisted  the  child,  "and  smile  all  over, — 
see,"  turning  to  Alice,  "and  that  makes  me 
smile,  too." 

Alice  came  instantly  to  the  rescue:  "Lib- 
bie Lee,  come  here!  You  are  a  great  little 


An  Arrival  49 


girl  to  investigate!  Come  here  to  me  and 
I  will  find  something  to  interest  you."  And 
the  eyes  that  "smiled  all  over1'  were  so  win- 
ning that  Libbie  Lee  was  at  once  at  Alice's 
knee,  looking  expectantly  up  into  her  face. 

But  Mary  rose  on  the  instant  from  the 
machine,  closed  it  and  put  her  work  away. 
Then  she  turned  to  the  little  girl  and  took 
her  firmly  by  the  hand,  with  a  look  of  deci- 
sion thrown  to  Alice  by  the  way:  "Come 
with  me  and  I  will  get  you  some  cookies." 

It  was  rather  a  grim  invitation,  or  com- 
mand, but  "cookies"  were  new  to  Libbie 
Lee,  and  she  followed  without  a  word  to  the 
kitchen,  where  Mary  seated  her  by  the 
kitchen  table  and  gave  her  nice  round  things 
to  eat  with  sugar  on  top. 

"Now,  stay  here  a  moment,  and  I  will  be 
back  for  you,"  said  Mary.  Then  she  hur- 
ried out  for  a  word  with  Alice  alone. 


CHAPTER  V 

MARY'S  STRATEGY 

"  ALICE,  "  she  said  brusquely,  entering  the 
sitting  room  again.  "I  have  thought  how 
to  manage  things  for  to-day." 

Alice  looked  puzzled:  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

"I  mean  how  I  am  going  to  manage  not 
to  let  folks  know  the  child  is  here  for  to-day 
— or  to-morrow.  Jim  Peters  has  already 
started  things." 

"How?"  asked  Alice,  puzzled  again. 

"I  ordered  five  pints  of  milk — to-day,  to- 
morrow— and  regular." 

* ' Oh, ' '  said  Alice,  comprehending.  ' 'Then 
you  can't  do  a  thing,  Mary!" 

"Yes,  but  I  can,  and  I  will,"  Mary  re- 
turned vehemently. 

"What?"  queried  Alice  skeptically. 

Decision  came  instantly  to  Mary,  and  it 
so 


Mary's  Strategy  51 

was  the  more  tenaciously  adhered  to,  be- 
cause, as  Alice  promptly  pronounced,  it  was 
absurd ! 

"I  am  going  to  the  kitchen  attic  and  stay 
all  day  with  her!" 

'  *  Mary !    How  absurd !    You  can 't  do  it ! " 

" Watch  and  see!  I've  got  to  hurry,  too, 
or  Sophie  Stoneham  will  be  here  before  I 
can  get  things  fixed." 

" Fixed  how?"  questioned  Alice,  be- 
wildered. 

"Never  mind,"  answered  Mary,  as  she 
hurried  out  the  room  and  brought  back  Lib- 
bie  Lee,  who  had  just  finished  her  cookies. 
Then  Mary  turned  to  the  kitchen  again  and 
hurried  up  the  attic  stairs. 

The  child  had  a  sort  of  pathetic  soberness 
as  Mary  brought  her  back,  and  as  Mary 
left  again,  Alice  with  her  quick  sympathy, 
put  out  her  arms  once  more  to  the  little  girl, 
who  smiled  and  ran  into  them. 

"I  am  going  to  stay  with  you,  Auntie 
Alice.  Mayn't  I?" 

"I  don't  know,  little  girl,"  Alice  replied 


52  Uncle  Mary 

uncertainly;  "Mary  didn't  tell  me  just  what 
she  was  going  to  do."  And  Alice  began  at 
once  to  divert  the  child  in  loyal  preparation 
for  whatever  Mary  might  have  in  mind. 

Meantime  Mary  was  busy  in  what  Alice 
would  have  said  was  an  absurd  way,  indeed, 
if  Alice  had  been  looking  on. 

With  lips  tightly  set,  Mary  began  pulling 
out  an  old  carpet  from  a  corner  of  the  low 
attic.  This  she  spread  down  upon  the  floor, 
pushing  it  out  in  every  direction  as  far  as 
she  could.  Next  she  lugged  out  several  old 
comforts  from  a  great  chest;  and,  contrary 
to  all  New  England  ethics  from  the  days  of 
the  Pilgrims  down,  these  comforts,  dedicated 
to  the  use  of  beds  alone — never  under  any 
circumstances  to  be  allowed  to  touch  a  floor 
— were  spread  about  on  top  of  the  old  car- 
pet, covering  the  many  holes  and  making  a 
deep,  noiseless  mesh  upon  which  to  tread. 

There  is  a  certain  high-spirited  reaction 
that  comes  to  the  best  of  folks  when  they 
reach  the  point  of  trampling  on  traditions, 
and  Mary  was  no  exception. 


53 


"I'm  not  going  to  have  Sophie  Stoneham 
asking  what  child  that  is  running  about  the 
attic  floor !  She  '11  not  hear  a  sound  through 
these  old  comforts!"  She  was  enjoying  her 
innovations. 

Then  she  tacked  up  at  the  low  side  win- 
dows impromptu  curtains  made  from  old 
dress  skirts,  leaving  open  only  the  long  back 
window  which  looked  out  over  brown  mead- 
ows and  rolling  hills. 

"There,  I  think  that  will  do,"  she  said, 
at  last,  surveying  with  satisfaction  the  low 
room  with  sloping  roof.  "And  there  are 
plenty  of  things  to  play  with  here." 

Then  she  went  down  in  triumph  to  Alice 
and  the  child. 

"Well,  I've  got  everything  ready,"  she 
said  in  grim  glee  to  Alice;  and  Alice  in- 
stantly came  back  with  a  spirited,  "Beady! 
What  do  you-  mean,  Mary  HalseyT' 

"I  mean  that  I  have  fitted  up  a  padded 
cell  where  Elizabeth  Lee  and  I  are  to  stay 
to-day  in  peace!"  Mary  said  under  her 
breath. 


54  Uncle  Mary 


11  You  shan't  do  it,  Mary  Halsey,  and  leave 
me  all  alone!"  exclaimed  Alice,  whispering 
back. 

"You  won't  be  alone,  you  needn't  worry 
about  that — you'll  have  plenty  of  com- 
pany!" 

Protests,  of  course,  amounted  to  nothing ; 
and  seeing  Libbie  Lee  begin  to  look  vaguely 
troubled,  Alice  meekly  said  no  more,  while 
Mary  turned  with  authority  to  the  little  girl : 
"We're  going  upstairs,  now." 

But  the  child  drew  back:  "I  want  to  stay 
here  with  Auntie  Alice,"  knowing  with  in- 
stinctive finality  that  rolling  chairs  could 
not  mount  stairways. 

And  Mary  Halsey,  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  resorted  to  "wheedling,"  as  she 
would  have  called  it  in  another:  "We're 
going  upstairs  to  see  a  lot  of  things — things 
you  never  saw  before." 

The  child  hesitated,  and  Alice  looked 
loyally  away,  remembering,  as  she  often  did 
in  clashes  between  her  sister  and  herself, 
how  much  Mary  did  for  her.  Then  Libbie 


Mary's  Strategy  55 

Lee  obediently  put  a  hand  out  to  Mary,  and 
went  wonderingly  through  the  kitchen  and 
up  the  attic  stairs. 

"This  is  such  a  funny  place,"  she  said, 
mounting  the  top  step,  and  looking  slowly 
around. 

"Yes,"  returned  Mary  with  a  new  eager- 
ness. "But  see,  it  is  just  like  walking 
around  on  a  bed !"  And  Libbie  Lee  laughed 
merrily  as  Mary  stalked  about  on  the  out- 
raged bed-comforts.  Then  Mary  began 
bringing  forth  long  forgotten  toys.  Nothing 
was  ever  thrown  away  in  the  typical  New 
England  home,  and  care  of  toys  was  care- 
fully taught,  as  they  were  expected  to  be 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation. 
Libbie  Lee  was  soon  interested  in  a  big  doll 
that  had  been  packed  away  since  Alice  and 
Mary  passed  their  doll  days.  Things  went 
pretty  well,  though  now  and  then  the  little 
girl  paused  to  ask  why  the  windows  on  the 
sides  were  covered  up.  She  wanted  to  see 
what  was  outside. 

At  last  Mary's  watch  said  it  was  noon, 


56  Uncle  Mary 

time  to  get  something  to  eat,  though  she 
had  brought  up  with  her  a  glass  of  milk 
and  more  cookies  for  lunch  for  her  little 
charge. 

"Keep  still,  Elizabeth,  just  a  minute, 
don't  say  a  word  or  move — "  and  the  child 
was  surprised  into  sudden  quiet. 

Mary  cautiously  opened  the  door,  not  a 
sound  was  to  be  heard  from  below.  "Now 
we  will  go  down  stairs,"  she  said. 

"To  Auntie  Alice,"  the  child  cried  joy- 
ously, and  Mary  gave  a  reluctant,  "Yes." 

They  trudged  down  hand  in  hand,  but  at 
the  bottom  of  the  stairs  Libbie  Lee  ran 
through  the  kitchen  and  hallway  straight 
into  the  arms  of  Alice. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  ?"  asked  Alice 
as  she  tenderly  folded  the  child  to  her. 

"Oh,  just  lots  of  things,"  returned  the 
child  a  little  wearily,  whereupon  Mary 
broke  in  with,  "What  company  have  you 
had?" 

And  Alice  reluctantly  admitted  that  So- 
phie Stoneham  had  been  in. 


57 


" Special  conunittee  from  the  town,"  re- 
turned Mary,  scornfully.  "What  did  she 
ask  you  $" 

"About  the  milk  cure,"  admitted  Alice 
with  a  smile  this  time,  which  came  easily 
with  that  warm  little  body  leaning  against 
her  knee. 

Mary  chuckled,  "I  knew  it, — and  did  she 
ask  where  I  was*?" 

"Of  course,  that  was  natural,"  said  Alice. 

"And  what  did  you  tell  her?" 

"I  said  you  were  doing  some  work  up 
attic." 

"Then  I  suppose  she  listened  for  sounds 
and  didn't  hear  any,"  questioned  Mary. 

"Go  on  Mary  and  get  some  dinner;  we  are 
famished,"  Alice  laughed,  squeezing  the 
little  girl  close  within  her  arms,  while  Mary 
inwardly  squirmed.  She  could  squeeze  with 
her  heart,  but  she  did  not  know  how  to  do  it 
with  her  arms. 

"I  won't  take  a  step,"  said  Mary,  "till 
you  tell  me  what  you  said  to  Sophie  Stone- 
ham  about  my  being  up  attic." 


58  Uncle  Mary 

"I  told  her  you  were  looking  into  some 
old  chests!" 

Mary  Halsey  smiled  satisfaction  and  went 
at  once  to  prepare  lunch,  or  dinner,  for  their 
main  meal  was  at  mid-day. 

"I  don't  think  anybody  will  be  in  this 
afternoon,"  Mary  chuckled,  as  she  stepped 
briskly  about  the  kitchen.  "I  wouldn't 
have  believed  Alice  would  do  so  well  at 
throwing  Sophie  off  the  track.  And  she 
will  tell  everybody  as  she  goes  down  the 
street;  so  we  will  be  safe  for  to-day,  I 
think." 

It  was  a  delicious  little  dinner;  Libbie 
Lee  was  hungry,  and  she  and  Auntie  Alice 
were  wholly  happy,  with  Mary  partially  so, 
because  Libbie  Lee  would  turn  to  Alice  for 
meat  to  be  cut  and  bread  to  be  buttered, 
when  by  all  rights  of  common  sense  and 
fitness,  Mary  should  be  the  one  called  upon ! 
A  sudden  determination  seized  her ;  she  had 
not  meant  to  go  to  the  attic  again,  for  she 
really  thought  Sophie  Stoneham  would  allay 
curiosity  for  the  day,  but  she  was  going  to 


Mary's  Strategy  59 

have  the  child  to  herself  absolutely  for  the 
afternoon,  that  was  sure !  And  to  go  to  the 
attic  was  the  only  way  to  manage  it. 

So,  with  the  dishes  washed  again,  and  the 
kitchen  set  to  rights,  Mary  announced  with 
as  much  matter-of-courseness  as  she  could 
summon:  "We  are  going  upstairs  now, 
Elizabeth,  to  see  lots  of  things  you  haven't 
seen  yet,"  giving  Alice  orders  with  a  mean- 
ing glance  which  quieted  all  protest  but  a 
low,  "Mary!" 

The  little  girl  again  looked  from  one  to 
the  other.  Alice's  powers  of  entertainment 
had  not  been  fully  tested,  it  was  true,  still 
it  was  nice  just  staying  with  her!  But 
Mary's  firm  hand  reaching  hers  was  quite 
compelling,  and  the  child  went  reluctantly 
up  the  stairs  again,  while  Mary  determined 
that  it  should  be  so  gay  an  afternoon  that 
Libbie  Lee  could  have  no  regrets.  Feeling 
so  sure  that  no  one  would  call,  Mary  romped 
with  the  child  as  she  would  not  have 
dreamed  possible,  and  Libbie  Lee  laughed 
out  and  cried,  "Oh,  Uncle  Mary,  you  are  so 


60  Uncle  Mary 


funny!"  again  and  again.  Mary  drew  her 
around  and  around  upon  an  old  red  sled 
over  those  rebellious  comforts,  and  even 
piled  up  more  at  one  end  of  the  room  that 
she  might  slide  down  hill!  At  last,  when 
both  were  tired  out,  Mary  found  a  little  old 
sewing  box  that  had  been  hers  when  a  child, 
and  in  it  was  everything  intact ;  thread  and 
needles,  thimble  and  scissors,  with  even  a 
cardboard  lamb  whose  outline  was  to  be 
filled  in  with  gay  threads  of  wool.  She 
showed  Libbie  Lee  how  to  do  it,  and  while 
the  child  was  absorbed  with  the  task,  Mary 
turned  to  the  old  trunk  from  which  she  had 
taken  it,  and  a  sudden  impulse  made  her 
open  a  cunningly  devised  secret  little  com- 
partment in  the  trunk,  of  which  no  one  knew 
but  herself — for  it  was  she  who  had  devised 
it.  Years  had  passed  since  she  opened  it 
last,  and  why  she  should  do  it  now,  she 
could  not  tell. 

There  were  just  two  letters  slipped  care- 
fully in  the  narrow,  hidden  space;  and, 
glancing  at  the  child  to  make  sure  that  she 


Mary's  Strategy  61 

was  not  looking,  Mary  opened  one.  She 
knew  every  word  the  letter  contained,  but  it 
thrilled  her  anew  to  see  them  lying  crisp 
and  firm  on  the  substantial  business  sheet. 

It  was  a  simple,  straight-forward  love- 
letter,  and  the  second  was  much  like  it. 

The  afternoon  ended,  tea  time  passed  and 
no  one  came  in,  for  which  Mary  and  Alice 
were  profoundly  grateful.  The  little  girl's 
eyes  grew  heavy  as  soon  as  tea  was  over. 
Mary,  noting  it,  was  glad  to  postpone  dish- 
washing, and  briskly  set  about  putting  her 
little  charge  to  bed.  There  was  no  objec- 
tion on  the  child's  part,  and  when  she  saw 
the  little  old  crib  with  its  transforming  lace 
and  frills,  she  was  full  of  delight. 

"It's  such  a  funny  little  bed,  and  so 
pretty,"  she  said  again  and  again,  as  Mary 
slipped  wee  garments  from  the  small  warm 
body — while  her  fingers  thrilled  at  every 
touch  and  Alice  looked  on  in  breathless  ec- 
stacy.  Never  had  a  little  child  been  un- 
dressed in  that  house  within  their  mature 
recollection.  It  was  an  indescribable  mo- 


62  Uncle  Mary 

merit  for  both,  stirring  dormant  things  that 
lie  in  every  true  woman's  heart.  And  when 
the  dainty  night  dress  was  thrown  over  the 
brown  head  and  fell  to  the  pink  toes,  it  was 
much  as  though  a  small  angel  had  suddenly 
lit  at  their  feet! 

But  a  very  matter-of-fact  child-voice  at 
once  announced:  "Now,  I  must  say  my 
prayers.  The  nurse  wouldn't  let  me  kneel 
on  the  floor  to  say  'em  last  night  in  the  sleep- 
ing car.  She  said  folks  would  step  on  my 
feet  going  through  the  car.  And  it  was  so 
funny  kneeling  on  the  bed  and  bouncing 
'round  all  the  time,  I  'most  forgot  my 
prayers,"  she  ended  with  a  gurgle;  but 
added  quickly,  "I'm  going  to  say  'em  good 
to-night,  though,  with  this  pretty  bed  to  say 
'em  by." 

The  little  white-clad  figure  knelt,  wriggled 
an  instant  to  get  into  just  the  right  position, 
then  the  small  voice  began  its  petitions  in 
a  suddenly  reverent  room. 

"Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,  I  pray  the 
Lord  my  soul  to  keep ;  if  I  should  die  before 


Mary's  Strategy  63 

I  wake,  I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take." 
A  moment's  pause,  and  she  went  on:  "God 
bless,  bless — "  Then  she  stopped,  and  her 
head  bobbed  up  with  sudden  question  in  the 
brown  eyes.  "Is  it  right  to  ask  God  to 
bless  everybody  in  two  Homes?  Maybe  I 
oughtn't  to  ask  for  but  one. " 

"What  do  you  mean,"  came  stiffly  from 
Mary. 

"Why  I  always  ask  God  to  bless  every- 
body in  the  'Home'  and  I  want  Him  to  do  it 
now,  too;  but  then  I  want  Him  to  bless 
everybody  here,  and  maybe  He  won't  want 
to  do  both." 

Alice  and  Mary  found  their  lips  twitch- 
ing with  amusement,  but  Mary  said  quickly, 
"It  seems  to  me,  since  you  are  here,  you 
could  just  say,  'everybody  in  the  house,'  and 
that  would  do." 

The  child  was  not  satisfied;  she  went  on 
plaintively:  "But,  if  God  would  do  it,  I 
would  like  Him  to  bless  the  'Home,'  too." 

Then  Mary  and  Alice  together,  came  to 
the  rescue.  "Of  course  God  will  do  it," 


64  Uncle  Mary 


said  Mary,  jerkily — it  seemed  so  odd  to  be 
talking  about  what  God  would  do — while 
Alice  put  in  warmly,  "He'll  just  love  to  do 
it!" 

And  a  beaming  little  face  went  down  on 
the  bed  again :  ' '  God  bless  everybody  in  the 
Home  where  I'm  not,  and  in  the  home  where 
I  am,  amen!" 

She  was  up  on  her  feet  instantly.  "Isn't 
it  nice  that  way  ? "  A  sober  minute  followed 
and  she  added,  "But  I  do  wish  Emma  and 
little  Billie  had  pretty  beds  like  mine!" 

"Who  is  Emma  and  little  Billie,"  asked 
Mary,  with  a  hint  of  rebellion  against  these 
interlopers  in  her  tone. 

"Billie  was  the  littlest  boy  and  Emma  was 
next  to  me  in  the  button-up-line, "  returned 
the  child  in  plaintive  brevity. 

"The  button-up-line,"  queried  Mary  and 
Alice  together. 

"Yes,"  said  the  little  girl  with  renewed 
animation;  "don't  you  know?"  Then,  see- 
ing from  their  faces  that  they  did  not,  she 
explained  happily:  "You  see  it's  dreadful 


Mary's  Strategy  65 

hard  to  button  up  your  own  dress  in  the 
back,"  and  she  reached  around  to  show  how 
hard  it  was — "but  it's  just  fun  to  button-up 
anybody  else !  So  we  all  stood  in  a  line  and 
Ella  buttoned-up  Mary,  and  Mary  buttoned- 
up  Amy,  and  Amy  buttoned-up  Sarah,  and 
Sarah  buttoned-up  Bridgie,  and  Bridgie — " 

"I  see,"  broke  in  Mary  on  that  line  which 
she  saw  was  going  to  be  interminable,  end- 
ing it  with,  "and  Emma  buttoned-up  you." 

"No,"  returned  the  child  positively,  "I 
buttoned-up  Emma,"  while  Alice  laughed 
sympathetically,  then  asked,  "And  who  but- 
toned-up the  last  little  girl  with  nobody 
behind  her?" 

"Oh,"  cried  the  child  in  triumph,  "the 
one  who  had  dressed  the  fastest  that  morn- 
ing always  got  to  do  it — and  /  got  to  do  it 
lots  and  lots  of  times!" 

"Well,  that  was  good,"  broke  in  Mary 
again  (with  lingering  rebellion  toward  these 
childish  recollections),  "but  here's  the  little 
bed  waiting  for  you." 

And  the  child's  delight  was  quickly  re- 


66  Uncle  Mary 


newed  while  she  laughed,  "I'm  going  to  be 
a  big,  big  doll  in  it!" 

So  she  looked,  when  she  had  nestled  down 
in  its  soft  depths,  while  Mary  tucked  the 
covers  about  her  curls  with  a  hand  that  very 
nearly  trembled.  Both  Mary  and  Alice  had 
kissed  her  good-night,  and  now  Mary  mo- 
tioned Alice  to  roll  out,  and  immediately  fol- 
lowed, herself.  As  a  matter  of  fact  both 
wanted  to  stay — fairly  ached  to  stay,  but 
Mary  knew  she  must  not  with  the  dishes  yet 
to  wash, — and  Alice  should  not  stay  if  she 
couldn't! 

The  child  was  almost  instantly  asleep, 
and  never  did  Mary  Halsey  make  dishes  fly 
as  she  did  that  night.  As  soon  as  her  task 
was  done  she  was  at  the  bed-room  door, 
peeking  cautiously  in  to  see  if  sleep  had 
really  come.  And  no  one  would  have 
guessed  from  Alice's  serene  face  that  she 
had  noiselessly  rolled  by  that  door  a  dozen 
times  while  Mary  did  the  dishes ! 

"She's  asleep,"  whispered  Mary,  relief 
and  joy  commingling  in  her  tone.  "Now, 


67 


we  will  open  her  trunk,"  she  added  briskly. 

"Oh!"  cried  Alice,  "we  can't  do  that!" 

"Why  not?"  returned  Mary,  who  had 
thought  it  all  out.  "She  is  in  our — my — 
charge — I  must  take  care  of  her  clothes. 
She  is  too  little  to  do  it  for  herself." 

Alice  thought  a  moment,  then  seeing  that 
Mary  was  right,  she  rolled  her  chair  with 
alacrity  toward  the  little  hall  where  the 
trunk  had  been  temporarily  placed. 

"You  better  not  try  to  come  in  here," 
Mary  grudgingly  warned,  "there's  no 
room." 

"I  won't  be  a  bit  in  the  way,"  returned 
Alice,  pleadingly,  and  Mary  said  no  more. 
She  put  the  key,  which  had  been  in  her 
pocket  since  the  child's  arrival,  at  once  in 
the  lock — and,  with  a  hand  that  decidedly 
trembled  this  time.  The  whole  thing  was 
so  contrary  to  anything  she  could  ever  have 
imagined  would  come  into  her  experience, 
and  the  day  had  been  one  of  constant  emo- 
tional strain!  But  the  lock  sprang  open 
with  prosaic  alertness,  and  lifting  the  lid 


68  Uncle  Mary 


with  tightly  pressed  lips,  Mary  faced  the 
neatly  covered  trays.  It  was  hard  again  to 
go  further,  but  with  a  jerk  the  lids  were  up, 
and  while  Alice  looked  on  breathlessly, 
Mary  laid  out  dainty  little  garments  of  all 
sorts.  They  were  the  prettiest  little  things 
either  of  them  had  ever  looked  upon!  Of 
the  daintiest  textures,  and  most  exquisitely 
made.  Then  they  came  to  the  larger  tray, 
and  finally  to  the  big  space  below,  to  find 
beautiful  small  dresses, — for  morning,  for 
Church,  for  parties !  Never  were  two  spin- 
sters so  excited  and  delighted!  They  ex- 
claimed, and  warned  each  other: 

"Alice,  Alice!  Suppose  somebody  comes 
to  the  door,  what  would  they  think  of  the 
racket  you  are  making?"  Or,  "Mary, 
Mary !  You  forget  how  loud  you  are  talk- 
ing!" When,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was 
only  their  emotions  that  had  run  up  the 
scale  to  high  C ! 

Alice's  arms  were  piled  full  of  lovely 
things,  while  Mary  still  produced  more,  and 
both  exclaimed: 


Mary's  Strategy  69 

"What  will  we  ever  do  with  them  all?" 
"We  will  have  to  give  her  all  of  the  little 
bedroom,  and  move  our  things  upstairs," 
Mary  answered  herself,  and  Alice  agreed 
enthusiastically.  They  were  both  ready,  if 
need  be,  to  move  out  on  the  roof  to  make 
room  for  the  marvel  which  had  slipped  into 
their  lives.  Mary  flew  into  the  little  bed- 
room, which  opened  from  their  own, 
snatched  their  prosaic  things  from  the  closet 
shelves  and  hangers,  wiped  the  dust  from 
where  no  dust  had  ever  been  allowed  to 
light,  and  placed  each  little  garment  away 
with  joyous  care, — just  as  it  should  be. 
Everything  seemed  absolutely  new  in  the 
big  trunk,  and  both  had  New  England  re- 
spect for  "new  things."  Their  own  cloth- 
ing had  been  piled  on  the  bed  in  the  little 
room,  and  now  the  three  lower  drawers  from 
the  old  "high-boy"  were  emptied  of  their 
contents  and  space  given  for  the  child's 
under  garments,  gloves,  sashes,  etc. 

Alice  said  at  last,  "What  are  you  going  to 
do  with  our  things — I'd  let  them  lie  on  the 


70  Uncle  Mary 


bed  to-night,  Mary.  You  are  all  tired  out, 
I  know,  if  you  would  only  own  it,"  Alice 
answered  herself  earnestly. 

"I'm  not,"  protested  Mary  vigorously. 
"Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  let  her  see  this 
disorder  in  the  morning?" 

That  was  all  the  stimulus  Mary  needed 
— her  own  declaration  of  purpose — and  she 
began  instantly  to  take  the  things  from  the 
bed  and  carry  them  to  the  attic,  where  she 
disposed  of  them  for  the  time  being.  It  was 
late,  indeed,  when  they  finally  sought  their 
beds,  and  then  how  could  they  sleep  with  the 
thought  of  that  little  thing  breathing  so 
softly  at  Mary's  bedside!  Alice  wished  so 
much  that  she  dared  ask  Mary  to  leave  the 
light  burning,  so  she  could  look  over  there 
once  in  a  while;  and  Mary  wished  rather 
fiercely  that  Alice  were  not  in  the  room  at 
all,  so  she  could  keep  a  light  all  night ! 


CHAPTER  VI 

SUNDAY 

THE  next  day  being  Sunday  brought  new 
problems.  To  begin  with,  the  milk  boy 
was  more  aggressive  in  his  investigations, 
but  Mary  was  quite  equal  to  him  and  no  hint 
of  the  real  situation  was  allowed  to  pass  the 
locked  back  door  even  when  it  grudgingly 
opened  a  space ;  neither  was  there  possibility 
of  his  stealing  information  from  any  tell- 
tale window.  Everything  was  foreseen  and 
guarded  against.  Libbie  Lee  slept  late  in 
the  be-f rilled  little  bed.  The  day  before  had 
been  taxing  to  the  child  in  many  ways,  and 
she  had  slept  as  quietly  as  a  rose  on  a  sum- 
mer's night  till  after  nine  o'clock. 

Meantime,  their  breakfast  done  and  dishes 
put  away,  Mary  turned  to  Alice : 

"I  suppose  I've  got  to  go  to  church,  or 
we'll  have  the  whole  town  here  by  night!" 

71 


72  Uncle  Mary 


Alice  laughed  with  what  she  imagined  was 
hidden  delight,  but  Mary  was  not  slow  to  de- 
tect and  comprehend.  If  Mary  went  to 
church,  Alice  thought  that  Libbie  Lee  would 
be  left  with  her ! 

There  was  instant  decision,  entirely  con- 
trary to  all  previous  plans : 

"I  am  going  to  take  Elizabeth  to  church 
with  me,"  Mary  casually,  but  firmly  said. 

"Why,  I  wouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing!" 
protested  Alice,  and  "What  will  people 
say?"  came  the  old  query. 

"They  might  as  well  say  it  now  and  be 
done  with  it,  whatever  they  may  say,"  re- 
turned Mary  coolly. 

"But — "  protested  Alice  again,  in  con- 
scious futility, — "I'd  make  some  kind  of  a 
statement  about  her  first." 

"Call  a  town  meeting,  I  suppose,  and  tell 
them  I  don't  know  anything  about  her," 
Mary  scornfully  returned.  Then  she  added 
sharply;  "We've  talked  this  all  over  before, 
and  you  had  better  let  me  manage  it. " 

Alice  knew  this  was  final  and  resigned 


Sunday  73 

herself  to  keen  disappointment,  for  she  had 
fully  counted  upon  the  two  hours  when  she 
would  have  the  child  all  for  her  own. 

Mary  kept  a  constant  eye  upon  the  little 
bed  to  catch  the  first  stir  within  its  depths. 
At  last  it  came.  Alice,  on  her  part,  was 
watching  Mary's  face  and  wheeled  instantly 
into  view.  The  two  were  breathless,  while 
a  bewildered  look  swept  the  little  sleeping 
rose  like  a  sudden  rough  wind — then  she  saw 
the  two  standing  guard,  and  joyous  light  and 
color  flooded  it. 

"Oh,  I  sleeped  so  good!" 

"And  aren't  you  hungry?"  asked  both  her 
keepers  together. 

"Yes,  I'm  so  hungry,  but  I  just  want  to 
stay  all  the  time  in  this  pretty  bed!" 

Mary  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "Stay 
right  there  and  I  will  bring  your  break- 
fast," but  that  was  not  at  all  according  to 
her  training,  or  oft-stated  policy  as  to  the 
training  of  children.  So  the  firmness  of 
self-denial  came  to  her  tones  as  she  said, 
"That  won't  do.  It  is  time  now  everybody 


74  Uncle  Mary 


was  up."  And  Alice's  look  of  sorrowful 
reproach  cemented  her  determination. 

But  Libbie  Lee  had  been  only  joking;  she 
tumbled  gayly  out  of  her  nest,  then  turned 
and  patted  it  with,  "I'm  coming  back  to 
you,  pretty  little  bed,  to-night,  and  every 
night  as  long  as  I  live!"  while  her  listeners 
glowed. 

"I  put  my  clothes  on  by  myself,"  she  said, 
hesitatingly,  as  Mary  began  to  dress  her, 
"that's  what  I  had  to  do  when  I  was  at  the 
'Home'." 

"Well,  you  are  not  at  the  'Home'  now," 
said  Mary  firmly.  She  wasn't  going  to  be 
cheated  out  of  everything  through  rules  and 
regulations,  especially  if  they  weren't  her 
own! 

Consequently  she  had  the  joy  of  putting 
small  garments  on  the  warm  little  body,  and 
Libbie  Lee  never  twisted  or  squirmed  once. 
"Homes,"  as  a  rule,  disapprove  of  small 
bodily  contortions.  Their  system  soon 
smoothes  out  the  last  vestige.  So  Mary, 
without  delay,  slipped  a  little  morning  dress 


Sunday  75 

over  the  child's  head  and  led  her  out  to 
breakfast  where  both  women  feasted  their 
souls  as  the  child  ate  and  prattled.  Then 
Mary  made  her  ready  for  church — a  process 
that,  for  Mary,  was  memorable.  The  pride 
with  which  she  selected  and  put  on  hand- 
some outer  garments — that  marked  the  child 
as  coming  from  sources  of  wealth  and  per- 
fect taste — was  of  such  an  inflating  variety 
that  if  Mary  had  not  learned  so  well  the  les- 
son of  self-restraint,  she  must  have  simply 
floated  afterward  along  the  village  street  on 
her  way  to  church !  As  it  was,  she  started 
up  the  street  a  little  late,  so  as  to  see  no  one 
on  the  way,  then  entered  and  walked  up  the 
aisle,  leading  Libbie  Lee  in  jerky,  deter- 
mined strides,  while  the  entire  church  stared. 
The  child,  so  evidently,  did  not  belong  to  the 
town.  The  Halsey  pew  had  always  been  at 
the  front,  Mary  and  Libbie  Lee  occupied  it, 
and  no  attendant  of  the  day  could  fail  to 
take  astounded  note.  Mr.  Stillwell,  the  old 
pastor,  also  took  note  and  knew  he  must 
preach  against  odds !  How  much  of  his  ser- 


76  Uncle  Mary 


mon  was  heard  will  never  be  known,  but  it 
is  certain  that  Mary  never  heard  a  word. 
Neither  could  she  have  told  whether  she  was 
most  happy,  as  she  sat  there  with  the  child 
looking  up  into  her  face  every  little  while, 
or  most  miserable  over  the  coming  ordeal  of 
questions. 

The  benediction  came  at  last  and  Sophie 
Stoneham,  portly  and  wheezing,  was  the 
first  to  reach  her. 

"Well,  well,  Mary  Halsey,  how  did  you 
get  her?"  with  breathless  directness. 

And  the  question,  determining  Mary's 
policy  toward  the  town,  enabled  her  to  reply 
at  once,  "I  stole  her!" 

In  her  joy  and  misery  during  the  service 
Mary  had  constantly  petitioned:  "Oh,  Lord, 
tell  me  what  to  say  to  them!" 

Her  prayer  had  been  granted !  The  first 
question  asked  had  been  in  a  form  that  gave 
her  immediate  answer.  Of  course  some 
sticklers  for  God's  high  integrity,  who  are 
extremely  careless  of  their  own,  might  try 
to  prove  that  her  answer  was  not  strictly 


Sunday  11 

true,  and  so  could  not  have  been  providen- 
tially provided.  But,  in  her  heart,  Mary 
knew  how  unquestioningly  she  had  taken 
the  child  to  whom  nobody's  legal  right  was 
proven.  So,  her  answer  for  all  came  in  that 
first  reply,  "I  stole  her,"  and  she  did  not 
add  to  or  take  from  that  statement. 

One  after  another  passed  and  spoke  to 
her,  and  what  she  had  said  first  was  repeated 
with  a  grim  smile  again  and  again,  till  Mary 
grasped  the  child  more  tightly  and  fled  to 
the  little  room  in  the  rear  of  the  church, 
which  served  as  pastor 's  study  and  class 
room  for  the  smallest  children  of  the  Sunday 
School. 

Elizabeth  Lee  in  her  short  life  had  had 
many  experiences,  and  she  had  learned  to 
keep  step  with  other  little  feet ;  so  she  went 
into  the  room  with  the  few  other  little  folk 
of  the  church,  without  question.  But,  as  the 
other  children  crowded  around  her,  in  even 
more  evident  curiosity  than  their  elders, 
she  clung  tightly  to  Mary's  hand;  and  then, 
it  seemed  to  her  that  Mary's  brief  introduc- 


78  Uncle  Mary 


tion  to  the  teacher  meant  a  passing  on  of 
her  ownership  again! 

"This  is  Elizabeth  Lee  Starling,"  Mary 
said,  very  firmly.  "I  hope  she  is  going  to  be 
a  very  good  little  girl." 

Miranda  Evans,  the  teacher,  did  not  have 
a  prepossessing  personality.  She  was  tall 
and  very  angular,  and  her  eyes  didn't  look 
in  the  same  direction,  Elizabeth  could  have 
told  you  in  frightened  whisper — though  not 
in  just  those  words.  And,  since  astonish- 
ment dominated  those  disagreeing  eyes,  as 
Miranda  looked  at  the  child,  the  effect  was 
extremely  trying.  When  the  teacher  recov- 
ered herself  sufficiently  to  put  out  a  hand  for 
Elizabeth  Lee's,  a  closed  little  fist  was 
thrust  behind  the  child's  back,  while 
she  cried,  "I  want  to  stay  with  Uncle 
Mary ! ' ' 

'  *  Uncle  Mary!"  the  children  all  cried,  and 
then  they  laughed  spontaneously,  while 
Miranda  Evans'  eyes,  though  still  refusing 
to  focus  in  concert,  smiled  too,  most  harmo- 
niously. Elizabeth  Lee  had  no  idea  what  it 


Sunday  79 

was  all  about,  but  she  responded  to  the 
changed  atmosphere  which  merriment  had 
brought;  and  when  Miranda  Evans  tapped 
a  little  bell  which  sent  all  the  children  to 
their  seats,  then  kindly  laid  a  hand  on 
Elizabeth  Lee's  shoulder,  she  relinquished 
Mary's  hand  and  allowed  herself  to  be 
guided  to  a  chair  in  the  front  row.  The 
teacher  returned  to  her  place  and  the  exer- 
cises began. 

Miranda  invited  Mary  to  a  chair  near  her 
own,  and  Mary  sat  stiffly  through  the  hour, 
under  the  consciousness  that  the  name  her 
precious  little  protege  had  given  her  would 
go  over  the  town  by  night — and,  with  fur- 
ther inner  prescience,  she  knew  it  would  be 
fixed  upon  her  for  life;  because  everybody 
would  feel  it  was  so  eminently  appropriate ! 
Somehow,  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  that  the 
child  would  call  her  so  away  from  home,  or 
she  might  have  taken  her  in  hand  and  made 
sure  it  would  not  be  done.  It  was  a  crucial 
hour,  but  Mary  met  it  with  a  bit  of  added 
firmness  about  the  lips,  even  while  her  heart 


80  Uncle  Mary 


softened  again  and  again  as  the  child  she 
was  calling,  "Mine,  mine!"  turned  often  to 
her  among  so  many  strangers  with  smiles 
that  confirmed  the  claim. 

When  Sunday  School  was  over,  Mary 
tried  to  hurry  away,  but  she  did  not  succeed 
before  a  forward  child  had  taken  hold  of 
Elizabeth  Lee  and  asked :  "You  meant  to  say 
Aunt  Mary,  didn't  you?" 

Whereupon  Elizabeth  Lee  replied  deter- 
minedly, "No,  she  is  my  Uncle  Mary!" 

And  the  children  laughed  again,  while  the 
forward  child,  looking  fearfully  up  toward 
Mary,  persisted,  "How  did  she  get  to  be 
your  Uncle?" 

"That  is  none  of  your  business,"  returned 
Mary  sharply,  and  taking  her  little  charge 
by  the  hand  she  was  quickly  out  in  the  open, 
and  away  from  people,  she  thought,  thank- 
fully. All  except  those  interested  in  the 
Sunday  School  had  gone  home,  and  should 
have  been  busy  getting  the  Sunday  lunch 
upon  the  table,  but  Mary  caught  sight  of 
prying  eyes  behind  curtains  as  she  tried  to 


Sunday  81 


walk  unconsciously  along  past  the  unpreten- 
tious homes  lining  the  village  street,  while 
Elizabeth  Lee's  tongue  ran  joyously  about 
a  sparrow,  a  tree  or  a  cloud — anything  that 
caught  her  eager  young  eyes.  The  Sunday 
School  had  not  impressed  her  much.  She 
was  accustomed  to  sitting  in  rows  of  children 
while  somebody  talked  about  something ;  but 
walking  a  village  street  was  a  new  and  de- 
lightful thing. 

So  Mary's  spirit  was  soothed;  and,  when 
Alice  got  a  chance  to  ask,  without  notice  by 
the  little  girl,  how  things  went,  she  replied 
with  a  high  gleam  in  her  eye  and  smil- 
ing lips,  "Just  as  you  know  they  would 
go!" 

"But  what  did  you  tell  them,  Mary," 
Alice  begged. 

"Told  'em  I  stole  her!" 

"Mary!  You  know  they  would  not  be- 
lieve that!" 

"Just  as  good  as  anything  else  to  tell 
them,"  Mary  persisted.  "The  town  is  in  a 
perfect  ferment  by  now.  It  had  to  blow  up, 


82  Uncle  Mary 


you  know  as  well  as  I,  and  the  quicker  the 
better.    I  shall  never  tell  them  anything 
different." 
"Mary  Halsey,  you  are  terrible  1" 


CHAPTER  VII 

MONDAY 

THE  high  gleam  held  in  Mary  Halsey's 
eye  next  morning,  as  she  started  an  hour  late 
for  work;  and,  for  some  distance  down  the 
street,  her  mind  kept  pace  with  hurrying 
strides  as  she  worked  out  the  new  problem 
before  her — how  she  was  going  to  adapt  her- 
self to  the  town's  new  interpretation  of  her 
personality,  which  would  come  with  the 
adoption  of  "Uncle  Mary."  Life  had  all 
along  been  shaping  her  exterior  just  as  it 
willed,  without  regard  to  the  real  Mary  Hal- 
sey,  so  at  variance — and  now,  here  was  this ! 
She  had  even  dreamed  before  Libbie  Lee 
came  that  the  child,  somehow,  might  forget 
and  call  her  " Mother,"  sometimes — and 
later  come  to  apply  the  sweet  name  alto- 
gether! Oh,  wonder  of  wonders! 

Instead,  here  she  was  in  two  days  fixed 

83 


84  Uncle  Mary 


with  the  name  of  Uncle  Mary!  Her  mind 
was  taking  it  up  afresh,  because  she  ex- 
pected to  hear  it  the  first  thing  when  she 
arrived  at  the  house  where  she  was  engaged 
for  the  day.  She  was  sewing  at  the  Tur- 
ners' that  day  and  her  strong  hand  was  soon 
at  the  old-fashioned  jingling  door-bell. 

"Come  right  in,  Mary,"  bustled  Mrs.  Tur- 
ner, an  active,  bright-eyed,  nervous  little 
woman,  glancing  at  the  clock  to  show  that 
she  had  taken  note  of  the  lost  hour,  though 
it  was  the  first  time  any  one  had  ever  known 
Mary  to  be  late. 

"The  sun  got  tangled  up  in  its  orbits  this 
morning  and  all  the  things  tied  to  it,  like 
sewers-by-the-day,  lost  a  whole  hour,"  said 
Mary  coolly. 

"You  don't  say,"  returned  Mrs.  Turner, 
nonplussed.  She  had  been  at  high  tension 
for  at  least  fifty-nine  minutes  over  Mary's 
delay;  and,  though  no  one  could  ever  fore- 
cast what  Mary  might  say,  she  did  not  ex- 
pect any  such  fantastic  reason  as  the  one 
Mary  gave.  Marvel  of  marvels,  Mrs.  Tw> 


Monday  85 

ner  had  not  heard  the  news !  Such  a  relief 
it  was  to  Mary !  But  she  was  never  a  time- 
waster  on  any  account;  so,  picking  up  a 
piece  of  goods,  she  said,  just  as  though  there 
had  been  no  momentous  changes  in  her  life 
and  that  she  had  come  in  at  the  expected  mo- 
ment,— "How  do  you  want  this  skirt  cut — 
gored  or  straight?" 

Mrs.  Turner  could  hardly  gather  herself 
together  after  her  anxiety  over  the  lost 
hour,  sufficiently  to  determine  this  basic 
question,  though  in  reality  its  discussion  was 
a  formula  they  always  went  through  with 
unvarying  result. 

*  <  Why, — it  takes  less  to  gore,  always. ' '  A 
cardinal  point  with  Mrs.  Turner. 

"But  your  hips  need  the  fullness  of  a 
straight  skirt,"  cut  in  Mary. 

"Y-e-s,  they  do,"  reluctantly  admitted 
Mrs.  Turner;  "but  don't  you  think  you 
might  take  a  mite  off  the  sides  for  patches'?" 

"No,"  said  Mary  firmly,  "for  you'd  have 
patches  to  put  on  the  sooner  if  I  made  your 
house-dresses  tight  around  the  hips.  How 


86  Uncle  Mary 

much  in  this  pattern,  anyway?"  she  went 
on,  measuring  off  the  goods  as  she  spoke, 
knowing  well  that  it  would  be  just  a  bit 
under  full  requirements. 

Mrs.  Turner  grew  nervous  over  the  rap- 
idly estimating  fingers.  "Why, — it  seemed 
to  me  that  piece  of  gingham  was  a  mite  wide, 
and  that  a  little  less  would  do — " 

"Mrs.  Turner,"  put  in  Mary,  "you're  go- 
ing to  skimp  your  white  sky-robe  if  the  Lord 
lets  you  have  the  buying  of  the  goods." 

"Well,  you'll  never  have  any  skimp  in 
your  tongue,  Mary  Halsey,  if  heaven  don't 
change  you  any,"  retorted  Mrs.  Turner. 

With  this  interchange  of  pleasantries  the 
air  was  entirely  clear,  and  Mary's  scissors 
and  needle  flew  when  the  machine  did  not 
hum,  while  Mrs.  Turner  bent  all  her  energy 
to  putting  things  to  Mary's  hand,  that  as 
much  as  possible  might  be  accomplished  in 
the  limited  portion  of  the  day  remaining 
with  one  whole  hour  already  deducted !  Of 
course  Mary  would  not  charge  for  that  hour, 
such  a  thing  would  be  unthinkable;  but, 


Monday  87 

nevertheless,  there  was  economic  waste 
where  one  got  ready  for  work  one  hour  be- 
fore work  actually  began !  Mrs.  Turner  did 
not  formulate  all  this — it  would  have  wasted 
too  much  time,  but  she  had  the  sense  of  need 
for  catching  up,  which  spurred  her  on  to 
the  utmost. 

Mary's  secret  was  not  out  till  little  Carrie 
Turner  came  in  from  school.  She  had  been 
sick  the  day  before,  which  kept  her  and  her 
mother  away  from  church.  Now,  she  had 
hurried  home  to  tell  about  the  little  girl 
Mary  Halsey  had  brought  to  Sunday  School. 
Mary  distinctly  heard  the  high  treble  ex- 
citedly exclaiming  in  the  kitchen,  "And  she 
calls  her  Uncle  Mary,  Mamma!" 

As  soon  as  possible,  thereafter,  Mrs.  Tur- 
ner was  at  hand  with  her  questions,  even 
forgetting  for  the  moment  that  they  might 
possibly  delay  Mary  in  her  work. 

"Carrie  says  you  brought  a  little  girl  to 
Sunday  School  yesterday  morning,"  with 
aggressive  inquisitional  inflection. 

"She  didn't  lie,"  returned  Mary. 


88  Uncle  Mary 

"Where  did  she  come  from?"  pursued 
Mrs.  Turner,  with  the  air  of  an  indisputable 
right  to  know. 

"I  presume  the  stork  brought  her  as  he 
does  other  children,"  said  Mary. 

Mrs.  Turner  was  exasperated:  "Mary 
Halsey,  where  did  you  get  her?" 

"I  stole  her,"  replied  Mary  coolly. 

Mrs.  Turner  was  speechless. 

Monday  typified  Mary's  experiences  for 
the  week  and  then  life  turned  a  new  page 
for  her. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SURPRISES  GATHER 

AFTER  the  first  high  tension  of  receiving 
Libbie  Lee  and  fitting  her  into  the  quiet  old 
brown  cottage — which  was  much  like  fitting 
a  new-blown  rose  into  an  old  brown  bottle — 
and  the  greater  strain  of  allowing  the  town 
to  look,  gasp  and  gossip  for  even  more  than 
the  allotted  nine  days,  things  settled  some- 
what into  routine  for  the  little  household  of 
three.  Mary  cancelled  all  her  engagements 
for  sewing  after  the  first  week,  for  a  second 
letter  had  come  from  the  bank  making  it 
clear  that  they  wished  her  to  give  all  her 
time  to  the  child  and  to  receive  full  remu- 
neration therefor.  So  the  town  was  left 
gasping  again;  for  how  could  they  keep 
themselves  and  their  children  covered  if 
Mary  did  not  come  at  least  twice  a  year  and 
help  them  out?  There  was  consternation, 

89 


90  Uncle  Mary 

indeed — and  it  did  Mary's  soul  good!  Ten 
years  was  long  enough  to  be  measuring 
people's  bodies,  and  incidentally  their  souls, 
while  she  felt  her  own  grow  daily  more 
cramped  and  unlovely.  No  proclamation  of 
freedom  ever  brought  greater  joy  than 
Mary's  canceling  of  sewing  engagements 
brought  to  her.  Her  head  fairly  felt  light 
from  the  dropped  burden,  and  the  "  Uncle 
Mary"  which  had  eome  simultaneously  with 
it,  when  once  squarely  accepted,  only  added 
to  the  light-headedness  aforesaid. 

Alice  began  to  protest  along  altogether 
new  lines,  especially  after  almost  two 
months  had  passed  and  another  terse  letter 
had  come  from  the  New  York  bank  officials. 
It  read : 

Miss  'Mary  Halsey, 

Dear  Madame:  We  beg  to  say  that  a  modern 
limousine  with  competent  chauffeur  is  to  be  placed  at 
your  disposal  so  soon  as  you  advise  us  that  your 
barn  has  been  made  ready  for  its  occupancy,  and 
that  you  have  secured  a  boarding  place  for  the  chauf- 
feur, who  is  a  young  man  in  whom  you  can  place 
every  confidence  and  who  will  make  a  pleasant 
boarder  for  any  village  family  who  might  feel  they 


Surprises  Gather  91 

could  accommodate   him.     All  expenses  of  the   car 
will  be  met  here. 

Hoping  to  hear  from  you  as  promptly  as  possible, 
we  are, 

Yours,  etc. 

This  was  just  as  though  a  sky-rocket  had 
suddenly  shot  up  into  the  blue  above  the 
little  old  brown  cottage  and  dropped  a 
shower  of  golden  and  red  stars  upon  it. 
Mary  and  Alice  were  too  excited  for  words 
— and  words  they  were  most  careful  not  to 
use  before  Libbie  Lee ;  for  that  it  must  come 
as  a  matter  of  course  to  the  child,  was 
Mary's  instant  decision. 

But  Alice  had  exclaimed  when  first  the 
letter  was  read  to  her — "You  won't  take  it 
Mary,  will  you?" 

"Why  not,"  Mary  had  returned. 

"What  will  people  say?"  Alice  helplessly 
added. 

Mary  returned  a  scornful  look  as  answer 
and  tossed  that  new  light  head  of  hers,  then 
went  immediately  to  the  old  barn  to  look 
after  its  possibilities  for  a  garage.  She  de- 
cided that  very  little  would  really  have  to  be 


92  Uncle  Mary 

done.  There  were  two  big  doors  in  front, 
a  good  floor  and  a  good  roof,  with  a  slight 
incline  leading  up  to  the  doors,  and  a  road- 
way that  went  out  by  the  side  of  the  cottage. 
The  whole  would  simply  have  to  be  cleaned 
up  and  some  new  boards  placed  in  the  in- 
cline. 

When  she  returned  to  the  house  Libbie 
Lee  was  at  Alice's  knee  listening  to  a  story 
from  a  book,  and  this  picture  of  the  two 
struck  the  jealous  spot  in  Mary's  nature,  as 
it  always  did.  She  said  instantly,  "  Eliza- 
beth Lee  run  out  and  play  with  the  kitty 
a  few  minutes.  I  want  to  talk  with 
Alice/' 

The  child  always  obeyed,  because  obedi- 
ence was  a  thing  she  had  learned  thoroughly 
at  the  "Home,"  but  she  exchanged  longing 
looks  with  Auntie  Alice  all  the  very  slow 
way  out  of  the  room,  while  Mary's  lips  set 
into  straight  lines.  She  hoped  Alice  would 
disagree  with  her  about  something  so  she 
could  be  firm  in  speech,  but  Alice  was  too 
happy  in  the  child's  love  to  disagree  about 


Surprises  Gather  93 

anything  just  then,  so  Mary  told  about  the 
barn  very  briefly,  and  said  she  was  going  out 
to  get  Sam  Oldham  to  put  the  new  boards 
in  and  clean  up  the  barn  and  road.  Then 
too,  she  would  see  if  Sam's  wife  wouldn't 
take  the  chauffeur  to  board  and  "  everything 
would  be  done  with  only  two  tongues  to  wag 
about  it,"  she  ended,  letting  off  some  of  her 
irritation  in  this  acrid  conclusion. 

"Now,  Mary,"  protested  Alice,  "you 
know  Sam  and  his  wife  are  quiet  folks  al- 
ways, just  minding  their  own  business." 

"Yes,  I  do  know  it,  and  that's  why  I  have 
thought  of  them,"  Mary  admitted  with  a 
slow  smile,  which  if  Alice  had  been  suspi- 
cious, might  have  seemed  suggestive. 

In  fact  that  light-headedness  of  Mary's 
had  led  her  to  plan  another,  and  if  possible 
even  greater,  sensation  than  she  had  already 
given  the  little  town.  She  did  not  want  a 
hint  of  the  coming  auto  and  chauffeur  to 
reach  village  ears  until  some  fine  day  when 
she  and  Elizabeth  Lee  should  ride  in  state 
through  the  village  streets ! 


94  Uncle  Mary 

Saying  to  Alice,  finally,  "Let  the  child 
stay  out-doors  and  play  with  the  kitten, — 
the  fresh  air  will  do  her  good,"  (instructions 
which  were  instantly  ignored)  Mary  hurried 
away  to  see  Sam  and  his  wife. 

She  found  both  at  home,  Sam  limping 
about  in  Ms  shop,  his  thin,  patient  face  set 
in  lines  of  suffering,  while  his  wife  bent  over 
the  wash  tub.  Mary  soon  put  before  them 
her  business  and  found  prompt  agreement 
on  the  part  of  both.  Then  she  smiled  her 
grimmest  smile  and  said: 

"Now,  Sam  and  Maggie,  you  both  know 
this  town,"  (forgetting  that  in  reality  it  was 
not  unlike  other  towns  in  its  interest,  per- 
fectly natural  and  legitimate,  in  unusual 
happenings),  "and  I  don't  want  it  talking 
about  my  affairs.  It  has  talked  about  me 
enough  lately." 

Sam  and  Maggie  smiled  understandingly 
back  at  her,  and  instantly  said  that  neither 
would  speak  of  her  affairs,  or  of  what  they 
were  intending  to  do  themselves.  Maggie 
added  that  she  would  have  to  notify  some 


Surprises  Gather  95 

folks  that  she  could  not  wash  for  them  any 
longer,  but  she  would  give  no  reason  beyond 
the  one,  which  was  true,  that  she  was  going 
to  rest  a  little  from  washing. 

And  Mary  went  down  the  street,  after 
leaving  them,  with  the  joy  of  freedom  for 
another  to  make  her  blood  run  gayly. 

"  Maggie  Oldham  has  slaved  for  other 
folks  even  longer  than  I  have,  and  how  good 
it  is  going  to  seem  to  think  of  unbending  her 
back  and  letting  her  make  her  table  pretty 
for  a  boarder — which  I  could  see  in  her  eye 
she  was  going  to  do — and  let  things  come  a 
little  easier  to  Sam,  who  can't  do  much  with 
that  old  hurt  in  his  hip  always  to  nag  him." 
And  the  joy  of  easing  the  burden  of  others 
brought  a  flush  to  Mary's  face  and  a  soft 
light  to  her  eyes  that  would  have  amazed 
any  villager  who  might  have  met  her  just 
then. 

Sam  pushed  along  the  work  about  the 
barn,  while  Maggie  made  ready  for  her 
boarder,  and  it  was  not  a  week  before  Mary 
was  able  to  write  to  the  New  York  bank  that 


96  Uncle  Mary 

everything  was  in  readiness  for  the  car  and 
chauffeur. 

The  next  few  days  were  full  of  excitement 
and  expectation  at  the  little  brown  cottage. 
Though  Libbie  Lee  didn't  know  a  word 
about  it,  she  reveled  in  the  gayety  that  per- 
vaded its  atmosphere. 


CHAPTER  IX 

NEW  FEATHERS 

DURING  the  wait  for  arrival  of  the  limou- 
sine and  chauffeur,  Mary  had  been  turning 
several  things  over  in  that  suddenly  light- 
ened head  of  hers.  So,  on  Saturday  after- 
noon of  a  crisp  day,  with  snow  covering  the 
ground,  packed  nice  and  hard,  she  an- 
nounced to  Alice  that  she  was  going  over  to 
Barringer  and  do  a  few  errands. 

It  was  most  casually  stated,  but  Alice  re- 
sponded with  consternation.  They  did  not 
need  a  thing,  and  trips  to  Barringer  were 
always  few  and  far  between  1 

"I  am  not  going  to  take  Elizabeth  Lee 
with  me,"  Mary  went  on,  unperturbed,  "so 
you  can  have  her  all  to  yourself."  This 
was  added  grudgingly,  but  it  was  inevitable 
from  several  points  of  view,  and  brought 

97 


98  Uncle  Mary 

the  quick  smile  to  Alice  as  she  looked  over 
at  Libbie  Lee,  while  that  little  silent  listener 
flew  at  once  to  the  arms  she  loved  which 
rested  upon  the  rolling  chair. 

"We'll  have  a  good  time,  won't  we,  Auntie 
Alice?" 

Mary  turned  abruptly  away  and  almost 
immediately,  with  hat  and  coat  dashed  on, 
strode  out  the  front  door. 

Alice  instantly  took  herself  to  task.  Mary 
was  so  good  to  her,  she  told  herself;  sup- 
ported her — that  was  the  word  for  it — and 
saw  that  she  had  every  care.  What  a  wretch 
she  was  to  try  to  steal  the  heart  of  Mary's 
child  from  her!  Libbie  Lee  was  Mary's 
child.  There  was  no  denying  that,  and 
Alice  should  be  cold  and  reserved  toward 
the  little  thing.  That  was  the  proper  atti- 
tude for  her.  But,  Oh,  how  could  she  be? 
It  was  simply  impossible.  She  must  try, 
though,  to  make  the  child  love  Mary  more? 
show  her  more  affection.  So  she  set  her- 
self the  task  for  that  afternoon.  However, 
it  seemed  very  hard  to  keep  the  child's 


New  Feathers  99 


attention  when  the  matter  was  really  taken 
in  hand.  Libbie  Lee  wanted  to  talk  about 
the  sparrows  on  the  window-sill,  or  have 
Auntie  Alice  "read  a  story"  to  her,  and  al- 
together Mary's  heart  would  not  have  been 
particularly  soothed  with  the  lame  effects 
of  Alice's  first  lesson  in  teaching  Libbie  Lee 
to  love  "Uncle  Mary"  more. 

But  Mary  had  gone  out  in  the  crisp  air 
and  up  the  street  to  a  neighbor  from  whom 
she  had  hired  a  sleigh  for  the  afternoon.  A 
few  minutes  later  she  was  driving  an  old 
gray  horse  and  dilapidated  cutter  along  the 
roadway,  past  the  little  brown  cottage  and 
on  and  on  toward  Barringer,  entirely  un- 
conscious of  Alice's  praiseworthy  efforts. 
The  nostrils  of  the  old  horse  dilated  in  the 
crisp,  wintry  air,  and  it  was  so  good  to  be 
out  that  he  sent  his  hoofs  flying  with  an  al- 
most frolicsome  thrust.  As  a  result  they 
fairly  flew  by  the  Halsey  cottage  and  Mary 
did  not  turn  her  head  once  for  observation 
in  that  direction.  Her  spirits  lightened 
rapidly,  however,  responding,  even  as  did 


100  Uncle  Mary 


the  old  horse,  to  New  England's  winter 
elixir. 

"Well,  old  Gray,"  she  said  aloud,  as  they 
speeded  along,  "we're  pretty  old-fashioned, 
you  and  I,  stiff  and  dull  in  the  bargain,  but 
we  will  show  them  that  there  is  'come  back' 
in  us  yet.  You  are  doing  it  already,  and  I 
will  show  Sunfield  that  I  can,  before  many 
moons." 

Her  cheeks  glowed  with  the  keen  air,  and 
the  high  gleam  of  her  eye  gave  the  rest  of 
her  message  to  old  Gray  through  the  back 
of  his  long  ears ;  but  it  all  seemed  satisfac- 
tory to  him,  for  he  did  not  check  his  gait, 
and  they  continued  to  speed  rapidly  over 
the  miles  they  were  to  travel,  till  Barringer 
was  promptly  reached. 

Mary's  plans  were  very  definitely  made. 
She  tied  old  Gray  in  the  church  sheds,  just 
on  the  edge  of  town;  then  went  first  to  a 
hairdresser's  where  she  was  absolutely  un- 
known, and  made  immediate  arrangements 
to  have  her  hair  dressed.  Seated  by  the 
table,  with  all  the  implements  at  hand  and 


New  Feathers  101 


a  very  suave  young  person  ready  to  be- 
gin, a  feeling  of  panic  suddenly  seized  her, 
which  of  course  was  instantly  put  down, 
and  with  such  vigor  that  the  young  person 
in  waiting  almost  jumped  as  Mary  blurted 
out: 

"Now,  don't  look  at  me  and  think  I  don't 
know  anything  what  style  is,  that  just  any- 
thing will  do  for  me.  I  want  my  hair  done 
in  the  latest  twist,  or  wrinkle,  whatever  it 


is." 


"For  evening  then,  I  suppose,"  returned 
the  girl,  with  pert  insinuation  in  resentment 
of  Mary's  tone. 

"No,"  returned  Mary,  shortly,  "for 
breakfast,  dinner  and  supper." 

The  lady  in  charge,  not  quite  liking  the 
tones  which  reached  her,  was  quietly  on  the 
spot,  and  tactfully  considered  what  style 
would  be  most  becoming  for  the  new  cus- 
tomer, with  the  result  that  Mary  received 
excellent  attention ;  and,  when  she  looked  at 
the  finished  product  as  it  came  from  the 
girl's  skillful  fingers,  she  flushed  to  the  tip 


102  Uncle  Mary 

of  her  brow  at  the  transformation  it  had 
made  in  her.  The  hair  had  been  softly  mar- 
celled, or  to  put  it  more  correctly,  it  had 
been  coaxed  to  lie  in  its  own  soft  waves,  with 
a  little  mass  of  locks  resting  upon  her  fore- 
head, and  at  either  side  it  had  been  put 
artistically  back  to  cover  all  but  the  tip  of 
her  well-shaped  ears.  It  was  hard  for  Mary 
to  believe  that  the  vision  sent  back  to  her  by 
the  mirror  was  really  her  own.  She  bit  her 
lips  red  to  keep  them  from  trembling,  and 
without  a  word  of  commendation  or  dissatis- 
faction, she  paid  her  bill  and  hurried  out  of 
the  shop.  She  stopped  next  at  the  first  gen- 
eral store  beyond  and  bought  a  thick  veil 
which  she  tied  tightly  over  her  hair  and 
hat. 

Then,  with  courage  restored,  she  began 
looking  for  gown  and  wrap  and  hat,  for  she 
meant  to  complete  the  transformation.  The 
first  two  purchases  were  not  difficult.  Mary 
knew  what  pretty  clothes  were,  if  she  had 
not  worn  them  since  she  was  a  very  young 
girl.  She  bought  a  lovely  brown  satin  dress 


New  Feathers  103 


with  self-colored  embroidered  stripes  edged 
with  tiny  threads  of  gold,  and  a  touch  of 
burnt  orange  about  the  neck  and  sleeves  and 
waist  line.  It  was  most  becoming,  but  it 
was  above  her  shoe-tops  in  length,  and  soon 
there  were  high  brown  shoes  and  silk  stock- 
ings to  match  the  dress !  The  wrap  was  of 
warm  brown  velour,  long  and  loose,  with 
beautiful  seal  fur  about  the  throat  and 
hands.  Attired  in  the  new  things,  she 
removed  the  sheltering  veil  and  said 
brusquely. 

"Now,  I  want  a  hat." 

The  plain  out-of-dateness  of  the  hat  she 
had  on,  made  the  saleslady  who  had  sold 
the  dress  and  wrap,  smile  involuntarily,  but 
she  instantly  subdued  it  and  said  with  great 
cordiality,  "Let  me  take  you  at  once  over  to 
the  department. " 

There  Mary  did  not  feel  so  sure  of  her 
ability  to  choose;  and,  between  a  sudden 
sense  of  weakening  at  the  demands  of  a  new 
field  of  investigation,  and  a  saleslady's 
urgency,  she  finally  purchased  a  hat  of  ultra 


104  Uncle  Mary 


style,  that  was  becoming,  but  quite  startling 
for  any  quiet  inhabitant  of  Sunfield.  It 
repeated  in  waving  plumes  the  burnt  orange 
of  the  dress  trimming,  and  went  off  at  rather 
a  rakish  angle  to  the  left  side.  The  hour 
was  growing  late,  however,  and  Mary  has- 
tily told  the  sales-people  to  wrap  it  up,  while 
she  returned  to  the  dress  department, 
gathered  up  her  old  things  and  made  haste 
back  to  old  Gray.  Of  course  common  sense 
would  have  dictated  the  packing  up  of  all 
the  new  things  and  wearing  of  the  old  ones 
back  home.  But  that  was  not  in  Mary's 
plan — common  sense  was,  for  the  time  being, 
not  her  key-note.  It  was  dusk  by  this  time, 
and  Mary  had  meant  it  to  be. 

When  she  hurried  around  to  take  the 
blanket  from  old  Gray's  back,  he  gave  her  a 
glad  whinney  of  welcome,  but  as  she  went  to 
his  head  to  untie  him  and  put  back  his  bridle, 
he  turned  to  give  her  further  welcome,  when 
lo!  she  flashed  her  lantern  into  his  face, 
lighting  up  her  own  at  the  same  time,  and  a 
stranger  looked  upon  him !  He  had  known 


New  Feathers  105 


Mary  practically  all  his  life,  and  he  was 
about  to  rebel  at  being  carried  off  by  some 
one  he  did  not  know,  when  Mary  laughed  in 
a  quick  rush  of  humor,  as  she  said,  "Well, 
old  Gray,  if  you  don't  know  me,  I'm  afraid 
my  family  will  turn  me  out  of  house  and 
home  when  I  appear  to  them!" 

But  voices  mean  much  more  than  looks 
to  horses,  and  entirely  re-assured,  old  Gray 
whinnied  to  her  again  in  response,  and  the 
two  started  gayly  off. 

They  covered  the  road  even  more  quickly 
coming  back  than  going,  and  it  was  little 
more  than  an  hour  when  Mary  let  old  Gray 
walk  out  of  the  shafts  in  his  own  barn,  back 
to  his  stall  for  his  waiting  supper ;  and  then, 
locking  the  barn  door,  started  rapidly  back 
to  the  little  brown  cottage.  She  smiled  as 
she  thought  how  her  feminine  ancestors 
would  have  cried  out  at  her  for  entering  a 
barn  in  all  that  finery.  But  she  did  not 
allow  herself  breath  to  think  how  she  was 
going  to  meet  Alice's  consternation.  She 
kept  her  thought  upon  the  sharp  tingle 


106  Uncle  Mary 


above  her  shoe  tops  where  thin  silk  stock- 
ings met  the  crisp  night  air  as  she  flew  along 
the  walk  and  hurried  into  her  own  door  like 
— well,  like  a  being  from  another  world! 
For  so  she  seemed  to  Alice,  as  she  looked  up 
when  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  Mary 
stepped  in ! 

Alice,  indeed,  had  every  reason  to  be 
totally  unprepared  for  the  apparition  that 
presented  itself  to  her  when  Mary  burst 
into  the  door  of  the  brown  cottage.  For 
had  not  that  light-headed  Mary  deliberately 
withheld  from  her  a  letter  from  the  New 
York  bank  of  the  week  before  which  had 
insisted  that  the  money  sent  monthly  for 
the  maintenance  of  Elizabeth  Lee  Starling 
was  intended  not  only  for  her  board  and 
any  other  needs  which  might  develop  for 
her,  but  was  also  intended  for  the  house- 
hold, that  everything  might  be  in  keeping 
with  desired  standards  in  the  rearing  of  the 
aforesaid  Elizabeth  Lee.  It  was  earnestly 
hoped,  therefore,  that  Miss  Halsey  would 
not  hesitate  to  equip  herself  personally  with 


New  Feathers  107 


anything  needful,  since  every  confidence 
rested  in  Miss  Halsey's  judgment  and  in- 
tegrity. 

Mary  Halsey's  love  for  beautiful  clothes 
had,  on  the  instant,  begun  to  unfold.  It 
had  always  been  there,  in  fact,  but  trampled 
on  and  crushed  through  the  past  ten  years 
till  it  was  an  utterly  lifeless  thing.  Free- 
ing it,  at  last,  with  a  sudden  shock,  had 
contributed  to  that  bit  of  light-headedness. 
But  there  was  another  underlying  motive 
which  led  her  to  keep  this  letter  of  instruc- 
tions and  its  effects  secret;  this  was  the 
rapidly  growing  bond  between  Alice  and 
Libbie  Lee,  which  left  Mary  out  and  stifled 
every  bit  of  affectionate  demonstration  of 
which  Mary  had  dreamed.  Now,  here  was 
Mary's  chance!  She  would  transform  her- 
self with  pretty  clothes !  For  the  child,  she 
would  make  herself  lovely  to  look  upon! 
And  Alice  could  not  go  out  to  wear  pretty 
things,  so  her  conscience  would  be  perfectly 
easy  in  buying  nothing  for  Alice.  She 
would  out-do  Alice  by  her  clothes ! 


108  Uncle  Mary 


Hence,  it  was  a  dramatic  moment  all 
round,  when  Mary  burst  in  at  the  front  door 
and  stood  a  moment  with  flaming  cheeks  and 
sparkling  eyes  before  Alice,  with  Libbie  Lee 
leaning  against  her  knees. 

It  was  a  speechless  moment  also,  during 
which  Alice  for  a  fraction  of  time  really 
failed  to  recognize  her  sister,  and  Libbie 
Lee  was  equally  bewildered. 

Of  course  it  was  the  child  who  spoke 
first. 

"Oh,  Oh!"  she  cried,  clasping  her  hands 
ecstatically.  "How  pretty  you  are,  Uncle 
Mary!" 

Was  there  ever  balm  sweeter,  to  human 
heart  than  that  little  spontaneous  cry !  And 
Mary  wanted  with  all  her  soul  to  rush  for- 
ward and  fold  the  little  thing  against  her 
soft  new  furs !  But  it  was  as  impossible  as 
for  a  lumbering  elephant  to  suddenly  take 
wings,  she  told  herself  afterward.  As  for 
Libbie  Lee,  there  was  not  the  least  impulse 
toward  demonstration  of  affection.  She 
simply  stood  and  admired. 


WHAT  ARE  YOU   STARING  AT,  ALICE  HALSEY  ? '" 


New  Feathers  109 

The  dramatic  moment  was  over  and 
Mary's  tongue  was  loosened. 

"What  are  you  staring  at,  Alice  Halsey? 
Anybody  would  think  you  had  never  seen 
any  new  things  in  your  life." 

"Mary?"  was  all  that  Alice  could  artic- 
ulate, whereupon  Mary,  the  lumbering  el- 
ephant of  her  own  designation,  with  a  few 
ungainly  strides  reached  the  bedroom  and 
quickly  laid  aside  the  hat  of  flaming  burnt 
orange,  unfastened  and  hung  up  her  new 
wrap ;  then,  arrayed  in  the  rest  of  her  finery, 
she  made  haste  to  the  kitchen  to  prepare  the 
tea.  Her  passage  through  the  sitting  room 
was  wordless,  for  she  wanted  no  protest,  or 
even  exclamation  over  the  unsuitability  of 
her  costume  for  the  kitchen,  or  comments 
upon  her  stylish  coiffure.  By  the  time  tea 
was  ready  to  put  on  the  table,  however,  she 
had  regained  her  adamant  poise,  and  held 
her  head  as  though  her  outfit  were  a  thing 
perfectly  familiar  to  her. 

But  when  the  three  were  seated  at  the 
table  Libbie  Lee  could  not  take  her  eyes 


110  Uncle  Mary 


from  Uncle  Mary's  face.     Finally  she  said: 

"Uncle  Mary,  your  hair  is  so  pretty.  Did 
you  buy  it  when  you  went  to  town?" 

"Yes,"  returned  Mary,  looking  at  Alice 
with  a  "you-keep-still"  expression,  "I 
bought  it." 

"Then  you  are  going  to  wear  it  all  the 
time,  and  never  that  you  used  to  have,  aren't 
you?  It  looked  like  some  of  my  dresses  I 
used  to  have  at  the  Home — that  were  so 
tight  on  me,"  she  said  soberly. 

Mary  laughed  and  Alice  was  glad  to  fol- 
low suit.  Without  example  she  would  not 
have  dared,  for  the  way  Mary  had  long 
"plastered"  her  hair  down,  had  been  a  mat- 
ter of  contention  between  the  two,  till  Alice 
had  given  it  up  as  hopeless  some  years  be- 
fore. The  real  source  of  Mary's  laugh  had 
been  revived  hope  in  the  child's  admiration 
for  the  transforming  process. 

They  had  hardly  begun  their  tea,  though, 
when  a  knock  sounded  upon  the  kitchen 
door,  and  Mary,  with  excited  expectation, 
hurried  to  answer  it.  The  bank's  last  letter 


Neiv  Feathers  111 


had  said  the  car  and  the  chauffeur  would 
probably  arrive  by  Saturday  night. 

She  was  met  at  the  door  by  a  young  man 
of  very  neat  appearance  who  tipped  his  cap 
with  utmost  courtesy  as  he  said: 

"I  am  Stafford,  Jack  Stafford,  the  chauf- 
feur, sent  by  the bank  to  take  charge  of 

your  car — that  is  if  you  are  Miss  Mary 
Halsey." 

"I  am,"  returned  Mary,  with  quick  com- 
posure. 

"The  car  is  in  front,  shall  I  bring  it  up 
the  driveway?" 

" Certainly,"  said  Mary,  "the  garage  is 
ready.  I  will  bring  you  the  key  by  the  time 
you  come  in." 

It  was  so  like  dreaming  that  the  key  was 
elusive,  as  Mary  tried  to  pick  it  up ;  and  her 
hand  still  trembled  as  the  big  car  glided  up 
to  the  old  barn  door,  paused,  and  then 
thugged  its  impatience  while  the  chauffeur 
stepped  lightly  down  and,  with  lifted  cap, 
took  the  key  from  Mary. 

The  barn  door  was  shoved  back  on  its 


112  Uncle  Mary 


brand  new  runners,  while  Mary  watched; 
then  the  car  whirred  impatiently  again  and 
moved  gracefully  into  silence. 

The  young  man  returned  to  Mary  with 
the  key,  and  she  at  once  told  him  of  arrange- 
ments which  she  had  made  for  his  board, 
with  directions  as  to  where  to  find  the  Old- 
hams.  She  sat  down  a  moment,  limp,  after 
he  was  gone. 

"I  don't  believe  I  can  ever  do  it,"  she 
whispered,  and  the  lip  which  had  long 
curled  so  scornfully  upon  the  slightest  occa- 
sion, trembled  like  that  of  a  frightened 
child! 

But  she  glanced  at  her  dress  and 
straightened  instantly:  "I've  got  it  to  do! 
And  I  am  glad  I've  got  some  new  clothes  to 
help  me  live  up  to  that  chauffeur!  Such 
airs!  They  might  as  well  have  sent  me  a 
college  president ! "  Then  she  smiled  grimly 
and  went  back  to  Alice  and  Libbie  Lee — 
Alice,  who  was  all  excitement  over  the 
sounds  which  she  could  readily  interpret, 
and  Libbie  Lee  wondering  what  was  going 


New  Feathers  113 

on,  but  too  well  trained  in  obedience  to  be 
leaving  the  table  and  going  off  on  investiga- 
tions. 

Alice  looked  up  inquiringly  and  Mary 
simply  said,  "It  has  come,  and  the  man  with 
it,"  which  ended  the  matter  till  after  Libbie 
Lee  was  fast  asleep — then  the  questions  had 
to  come. 

"Mary,  what  does  it  look  like?"  Alice 
said  eagerly. 

"A  beautiful  car,  of  dark  blue,  I  should 
say." 

"Oh,  if  I  could  only  see  it,"  breathed 
Alice  in  rare  expression  of  desires  that  were 
beyond  the  possibilities  of  a  wheel  chair. 

"I  wish  you  could,"  returned  Mary;  "and 
that  chauffeur — I  wish  you  could  see  his 
elegance!  I  am  certainly  glad  I've  got 
some  clothes." 

This  brought  Mary's  outfit  back  to  Alice's 
mind. 

'  i  Mary !  You  're  never  going  to  wear  that 
hat — and  everything — to  church  to-morrow, 
are  you?" 


114  Uncle  Mary 

"I  most  certainly  am,"  returned  Mary. 
" That's  what  I  got  them  for!" 

"But, -Oh,  Mary — do  make  some  explana- 
tions— I'm  so  afraid  people  will  say  dread- 
ful things!" 

"Then  let  'em!  My  life  has  been  an  open 
book  before  them,  and  now  that  I  have 
simply  turned  a  new  page,  let  them  do  and 
say  what  they  want  to!" 

"But  this  isn't  an  open  page,"  pleaded 
Alice. 

"No,  not  even  to  me,"  returned  Mary,  a 
bit  wearily,  but  she  instantly  pulled  herself 
up.  "Yes,  it  is,  too,  and  I  know  it  is  all 
right!  This  town  has  known  me  long 
enough  to  trust  me  without  being  shown  my 
credentials  for  every  move!" 

"I  am  afraid  no  town  on  earth  would  ever 
do  that  when  the  moves  are  so  startling  as 
the  ones  you  have  already  made  lately." 
Alice's  voice  was  weary,  too,  and  they 
quickly  made  ready  for  bed. 

Before  they  fell  asleep,  though,  Mary  said 
to  Alice,  "If  you  hear  a  rumpus  out  in  that 


New  Feathers  115 

barn  to-night,  you  may  know  father's  old 
cutter  has  picked  up  one  of  its  broken  shafts 
and  is  thrashing  that  new-fangled  limou- 
sine." And  they  laughed  together  like  two 
girls. 


CHAPTER  X 

UNCLE  MARY  SHOCKS  THE  TOWN 

THE  next  morning  by  eight  o'clock  the 
chauffeur's  knock  was  at  the  door,  and  then 
his  most  deferential  bow  met  Mary  in  her 
morning  dress.  He  was  a  well-built,  quiet 
young  fellow,  perfectly  trained  for  his  pro- 
fession. 

"Miss  Halsey,  I'd  like  the  key,  please,  to 
put  the  car  in  order  by  the  time  you  wish 
to  use  it,"  and  there  was  the  rising  inflec- 
tion at  the  close  of  his  statement. 

"At  ten  o'clock,"  Mary  returned  stiffly, 
while  the  chauffeur  bowed  again  and  hur- 
ried to  the  barn. 

"That  will  never  do!"  Mary  took  her- 
self to  task,  as  she  hurried  about  the  kitchen. 
"How  am  I  ever  to  be  consistent,  anyway 
— one  moment  the  kitchen  maid,  which  I 
must  be,  and  the  next  a  grand  lady  in  a  lim- 

116 


Uncle  Mary  Shocks  the  Town     117 

ousine!"  But  again  came  recognition  of 
the  thing  which  had  shaped  her  life  so  far — 
"It's  got  to  be!" 

The  usual  Sunday  processes  were  gone 
through.  They  had  had  their  breakfasts, 
and  not  a  word  had  been  said  to  Libbie  Lee 
about  the  car.  She  talked  again  of  Mary's 
hair  (whose  perfection  had  been  retained  by 
use  of  a  thick  veil  for  sleeping) ,  and  when 
the  little  girl  was  being  dressed  for  church 
and  Sunday  School,  she  lightly  touched  the 
pretty  waves  of  soft  brown  tinged  with  gold, 
and  said,  "Oh,  Uncle  Mary,  you  are  going 
to  wear  your  pretty  clothes  too,  aren't  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mary,  shortly,  dreading 
more  than  any  one  could  have  dreamed  the 
ordeal  she  was  about  to  face.  But  there 
was  the  car  in  which  she  must  ride,  whether 
or  no,  and  she  might  as  well  take  everything 
at  once,  while  Alice's  opposing  look  helped 
to  fix  her  determination. 

Promptly  at  ten  o'clock  the  beautiful  dark 
blue  car  swept  gracefully  up  to  the  little 
old  brown  cottage  doorway  with  almost  an 


118  Uncle  Mary 

air  of  disdain,  Mary  thought,  as  she  glanced 
out  the  bedroom  window.  But  Libbie  Lee 
happened  to  be  standing  at  the  glass  front 
door,  all  dressed  and  ready  to  go.  She  drew 
in  her  breath  with  a  big  "Oh"  as  it  came 
into  view,  and  cried  out:  "Oh,  Auntie  Alice, 
that  is  the  car  I  came  out  here  in!" 

Alice's  wheels  brought  her  instantly  to  the 
child's  side,  and  with  an  arm  about  the  little 
fur-clad  shoulders,  the  two  enjoyed  the  first 
glimpse  together.  Mary  had  intended  to  be 
on  the  spot,  too,  but  getting  on  the  new 
things  took  more  time  than  she  had  allowed, 
and  so  she  missed  the  carefully  planned 
surprise.  But  she  stepped  to  the  door  of 
the  bedroom  without  delay  and  said  more 
sharply  than  she  meant : 

"No,  it  is  not,  Elizabeth  Lee!  But  it  is 
one  very  much  like  it,  and  it  is  ours — 
yours  and  mine,  to  ride  in  every  day  all  we 
please!" 

"Auntie  Alice's,  too,"  urged  the  child, 
reaching  up  and  patting  the  face  so  near 
hers. 


Uncle  Mary  Shocks  the  Town     119 

"No,  Libbie  Love,"  said  Alice  quickly, 
"not  Auntie  Alice's  because,  you  see,  she 
cannot  ride  in  it." 

"But  I  will  lift  you  up  and  put  you  right 
in  it,"  protested  the  child,  stoutly,  "Or  the 
man  out  there  can." 

"We  won't  think  about  that  now,  for  you 
know  riding  might  hurt  Auntie  Alice's 
back,"  she  whispered  close  into  the  little 
girl's  ear.  And  Libbie  Lee  knew  no  more 
must  be  said. 

Meanwhile  Mary's  nervous  hands  had  al- 
most refused  to  put  that  giddy  hat  into 
place.  "Libbie  Love!"  she  cried  indig- 
nantly to  herself.  "When  did  that  begin? 
She  is  just  trying  to  steal  my  child's  heart 
from  me!  I  meant  to  try  to  make  a  way 
for  her  to  ride,  but  I  won't  do  it  now!" 
And  anger  for  a  moment  ruled  in  Mary 
Halsey's  heart  as  it  never  had  done  before. 
As  for  Alice  and  Libbie  Lee,  they  were  so 
excited  over  the  lovely  car  that  neither  no- 
ticed the  secret  name  which  Auntie  Alice  had 
discovered  for  the  little  girl  had  slipped  out, 


120  Uncle  Mary 

and  they  never  meant  to  tell  anybody  about 
it! 

Mary  came  out  at  last  with  her  head  high 
and  her  nerves  very  firm.  Anger  is  a  good 
stiff  ener. 

"Come,  Elizabeth,  we  must  go  now,"  and 
the  child,  kissing  Auntie  Alice  lovingly,  ran 
out  the  open  door  and  up  to  the  long  blue 
car. 

The  chauffeur  was  at  the  door  ready  to 
help  the  child  in,  and  Mary  stepped  quickly 
in  herself,  quite  as  though  she  had  ridden  in 
limousines  all  her  life. 

"We  will  drive  a  bit  in  the  country  first, 
Stafford,"  she  said,  finding  courage  to  use 
his  name  for  the  first  time.  "We  do  not 
have  to  be  at  the  church  until  half  past  ten." 

He  bowed  deferentially,  and  a  moment 
later  they  were  off. 

Libbie  Lee  was  delighted.  She  examined 
every  item  of  the  car's  interior  with  happy 
childish  interest,  and  nothing  pleased  her 
more  than  the  little  glass  holders  with  their 
almost  true  to  life,  bunches  of  flowers.  She 


121 


wondered  much  over  them:  " Didn't  they 
grow  somewhere,  Uncle  Mary?" 

"Well,  they  grew  under  somebody's  fin- 
gers who  made  them,  just  as  a  dress  grows 
under  mine." 

"But  God  didn't  make  them,"  Libbie  Lee 
ended,  disappointedly. 

"No,"  said  Mary,  smiling  down  at  the 
little  earnest  face  wistfully.  Why  was  it 
that  children  seemed  to  love  God  and  feel 
near  to  Him  just  naturally?  She  remem- 
bered that  she  did  as  a  child.  To  feel  that 
God  made  a  thing  was  to  lift  it  entirely 
above  ordinary  things.  Then  she  flushed 
with  sudden  thought  that  she  was  getting 
far  from  that  attitude  of  love  and  near- 
ness. 

But — things  had  been  set  for  her  to 
do — things  that  had  been  hard — things 
that  were  still  hard,  and  she  had  them  to 
do! 

She  straightened  back  on  the  luxurious 
cushions,  while  Libbie  Lee  prattled  on.  And 
the  morning  was  glorious  with  sparkling 


122  Uncle  Mary 

sunshine  on  the  hard-packed  snow,  and  they 
sped  over  it  as  though  on  wings,  the  motion 
of  the  car  almost  noiseless. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Mary,  that  birdie  couldn't 
keep  up  with  us !  She  flew  right  along  with 
us  till  her  wings  tired  all  out,  then  she 
dropped  right  down  under  the  car !  Do  you 
think  we  mashed  her?"  was  the  tragic  end- 
ing. 

"No,"  returned  Mary,  "not  a  bit  of  it; 
she  just  swooped  down  after  something  she 
saw  in  the  road." 

The  little  confiding  spirit,  which  was  all 
hers  in  the  car,  as  it  had  not  been  since  the 
child  came,  brought  a  sudden  lightness  to 
Mary's  heart  which,  with  the  charm  of  the 
ride  itself,  sent  Mary  at  last  to  the  church 
door  (exactly  at  ten-thirty)  with  a  return 
of  the  light-headedness  which  had  marked 
the  past  week.  So,  while  the  gathering 
congregation  almost  stopped  in  their  tracks 
as  the  car  swung  into  place,  and  Mary,  with 
Libbie  Lee  by  the  hand,  stepped  forth  in  all 
her  finery,  Mary  herself  was  entirely  com- 


Uncle  Mary  Shocks  the  Toivn     123 

posed,  bowing  here  and  there  quite  naturally 
even  though  a  bit  hurriedly,  for  she  did 
want  to  get  into  her  place  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible. 

The  sermon  did  not  mean  much  to  her,  of 
course,  for  once  seated  she  could  feel  fem- 
inine eyes  upon  that  hat,  and  she  added 
scornfully  to  herself,  "I'll  bet  the  men  are 
looking,  too." 

The  minister  was  again  pitted  against 
fearful  odds !  But  so  earnestly  did  his  fine 
old  voice  battle  for  the  center  of  interest 
against  that  worldly  thing  in  a  front  pew, 
that  it  reached  out  for  spiritual  verities  as 
it  had  rarely  been  heard  to  do !  Things  had 
gone  along  the  even  tenor  of  their  way  with 
his  people  for  so  many  years  that  he  had 
fallen  into  comfortable  lines.  But,  as  So- 
phie Stoneham  put  it  after  the  service  was 
over  and  she  was  on  her  way  home,  "The 
church  had  come  to  be  a  regular  moving 
picture  show  now,  with  Mary  Halsey's  do- 
ings !" 

As  for  Mary,  when  service  was  out,  she 


124  Uncle  Mary 

was  let  absolutely  alone ;  and  so  marked  was 
it,  that  kind  Mrs.  Stillman,  the  minister's 
wife,  hurried  quickly  to  her  side  with  a 
pleasant,  unobserving,  "How  d'ye  do,"  and 
a  caress  for  Libbie  Lee.  Then  the  two  prin- 
cipal actors,  as  Sophie  Stoneham  would 
have  designated  them,  hurried  on  into  the 
Sunday  School  room  for  the  little  ones  of 
the  congregation. 

Mary  had  been  to  Sunday  School  with 
Libbie  Lee  every  Sunday  since  she  came, 
and  had  listened  to  Miranda  Evans  trying 
to  teach  the  children.  It  was  very  stupid, 
Mary  knew,  but  it  was  the  kind  of  thing  she 
had  heard  from  Miranda  when  a  child,  and 
so  she  supposed  it  was  all  right.  But  her 
thought  had  been  chiefly  held  by  watching 
her  own  little  new-found  treasure,  who  sat 
on  a  bench  and  tried  not  to  wriggle,  or  looked 
over  at  her  for  encouragement.  To-day  the 
other  children  looked  with  Libbie  Lee,  and 
so  freely  that  Miranda  finally  said  to 
Mary : 

"You  better  come  here  and  teach  these 


125 


children;  they  are  more  interested  in  you 
than  they  are  in  me." 

It  was  said  sharply,  with  intent  to  cut 
Mary  Halsey  in  her  finery ;  so  Mary  replied 
promptly,  "All  right,  I  will."  And  she 
stepped  right  up  to  Miranda's  place,  while 
that  dignitary  took  Mary's  chair. 

Mary  knew  the  lesson,  for  she  had  taught 
it  to  Libbie  Lee,  and  she  amazed  herself  by 
teaching  it  to  the  children  in  a  way  that 
held  their  complete  attention.  She  knew 
this  was  not  altogether  due  to  her  finery, 
either.  As  for  Miranda,  when  the  lesson 
hour  was  over,  she  said  to  Mary,  "I've 
taught  this  class  fifty  years.  I'm  done. 
You  can  take  it." 

Mary  protested  that  she  didn't  want  it, 
Miranda  ought  to  keep  it;  but,  though  Mi- 
randa said  never  a  word  more,  her  resolve 
was  taken. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  LIMOUSINE  CHRISTMAS 

IT  was  the  Saturday  before  Christmas 
that  the  beautiful  car  had  come  to  the  brown 
cottage,  and  Mary  had  made  her  debut  in 
fashionable  finery.  Her  spirits  being  high, 
she  determined  that  Christmas  for  her  little 
girl  should  be  one  to  be  remembered.  Why 
she  herself,  had  never  seen  a  real  Christmas ! 
When  she  and  Alice  were  children,  New 
England  frugality  still  prevailed  in  the  little 
cottage,  and  a  simple  gift  for  each  was  all 
they  ever  expected,  or  got.  They  hung  up 
their  stockings,  it  was  true,  and  these  next 
morning  were  full  of  candy,  an  orange,  an 
apple  and  some  raisins;  but  Christmas  joy, 
like  other  kinds,  must  always  be  restrained 
joy.  There  must  be  no  plunging  out  of  bed 
at  daylight,  no  riotous  romping  or  hilarious 
merry-making.  It  was  a  time  to  look  for- 

126 


A  Limousine  Christmas          127 

ward  to  all  the  year,  and  then  keep  well 
within  bounds  when  it  arrived !  Mary  could 
see  all  this  plainly  now;  and  with  the  spirit 
of  daring  which  was  then  upon  her,  she  de- 
termined to  wake  the  old  cottage  up  with 
one  real  Christmas ! 

So,  with  the  new  car,  she  flew  hither  and 
thither  gathering  together  Yule-tide  acces- 
sories. On  most  of  the  trips  Libbie  Lee 
went,  too, — because  Mary's  jealous  heart 
refused  to  leave  her  much  alone  with  Alice. 
And  the  little  girl  would  stay  obediently  in 
the  car,  if  Mary  wanted  to  shop  in  secret; 
neither  did  the  child  show  embarrassing 
curiosity  as  to  the  bundles,  since  her  train- 
ing had  not  included  happy  nosing  after 
secrets  "just  before  Christmas. "  The 
"Home"  had  been  too  big  for  that.  But 
trips  into  the  woods,  when  Sam  Oldham  sat 
in  the  seat  with  the  chauffeur  and  carried 
an  ax,  were  trips  that  the  little  girl  did  not 
make ;  and  the  big  limousine  on  its  return  at 
dusk  slipped  quietly  into  the  barn-garage 
before  unloading. 


128  Uncle  Mary 


Then  came  the  time  when  Mary  and  Alice, 
Sam  and  the  chauffeur  worked  on  Christ- 
mas eve  till  far  into  the  night,  transforming 
the  old  cottage  while  the  little  girl  slept. 

To  Alice's  profound  amazement,  the  first 
thing  Mary  did  after  the  little  one  fell 
asleep,  and  before  Sam  and  the  chauffeur 
came,  was  to  throw  open  a  room  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  little  sitting  room  from 
theirs.  It  was  a  door  that  had  not  been 
opened  for  many  a  year — not  since  their 
father  died,  in  fact. 

Alice  exclaimed:  "Mary,  Mary!"  as  it 
swung  determinedly  around  under  Mary's 
hand. 

Mary  set  her  lips  and  said  nothing  as  she 
strode  in  and  began  at  once  to  dismantle  the 
room  while  Alice  looked  on,  speechless,  after 
the  first  exclamation. 

Finally  Mary  remarked  grimly,  "Here  is 
where  I  am  going  to  have  the  Christmas 
tree,  and  I  want  to  get  the  room  swept  up 
and  dusted  before  Sam  and  Stafford  get 
here." 


A  Limousine  Christmas  129 

"No, — Oh,  Mary,  don't!"  cried  Alice. 
Then,  as  Mary  worked  on  without  a  word, 
she  cried  again : 

"Why  can't  you  have  it  in  the  sitting- 
room?  That  is  where  everybody  puts  a 
Christmas  tree!" 

"That's  the  reason  I  don't  want  it  there," 
returned  Mary.  "I  don't  want  everybody 
seeing  it  from  the  street  and  coming  in  from 
curiosity.  I  am  going  to  have  it  here,"  she 
ended  with  finality. 

Of  course  it  was  useless  to  argue  over  the 
matter,  and  Alice  silently  watched  Mary's 
flying  hands  as  she  swept  up  the  dust  of 
years  and  put  to  rights  a  little  bedroom 
which  held  only  an  old-fashioned  day-bed, 
a  table  and  some  chairs.  It  was  here  that 
their  brother  had  slept  from  a  little  boy  till 
the  night  before  he  left  home.  It  was  a 
simple  thing  to  gather  up  the  clean  dirt  of 
a  country  house,  even  though  of  years' 
standing,  and  to  "put  it  to  rights."  When 
it  was  thoroughly  gone  over  with  broom  and 
duster,  Mary  was  ready  for  the  men,  whom 


130  Uncle  Mary 


she  had  purposely  asked  to  come  an  hour 
later  than  the  little  girl's  bedtime  that  she 
might  have  opportunity  to  put  it  in  such 
shape  that  no  questions  would  come  to  the 
minds  of  either. 

As  they  waited  a  few  moments  for  the 
helpers,  Alice  relaxed  with  the  thought  of 
how  much  pleasanter  it  was  going  to  be  with 
that  room  opened  from  the  sitting  room! 
And,  perhaps,  Mary's  opening  it  meant  a 
little  less  of  bitterness  in  her  heart  toward 
Elwood.  But  Mary's  face  did  not  promise 
much  as  Alice  searched  it.  Still,  just  hav- 
ing the  room  open  might  do  something,  and 
Alice  hoped.  It  was  Christmas  eve,  too, 
and  Alice  had  been  full  of  joy  at  the  thought 
of  making  it  a  wonderful  time  for  the  little 
girl,  who  grew  dearer  and  dearer  each  day. 
The  child  was  the  greatest  joy  that  ever 
came  into  Alice's  limited  life;  and  so,  with 
Christmas-making  in  her  blood,  she  could 
not  brood  or  question  over-much. 

A  knock  sounded  at  the  back  door,  and 
Mary  hurried  out  to  let  Sam  and  Stafford 


A  Limousine  Christmas  131 

in.  Then  the  real  work  began.  The  stored- 
up  treasures  from  the  woods  were  brought 
into  the  house  from  the  barn-garage;  the 
Christmas  tree  was  set  up  in  the  "north  bed- 
room, ' '  as  Mary  immediately  called  it,  where 
first  a  soft  rug  had  been  spread  upon  the 
floor.  Then  Mary  opened  her  bundles  from 
the  shops,  and  brought  out  a  beautiful  cover 
for  the  day-bed,  and  marvelous  things  for 
the  Christmas  tree :  tinsels  of  all  sorts,  can- 
dles, balls  and  little  gifts;  kitties  and  dogs, 
rabbits  and  squirrels ;  birds  and  angels  that 
hovered  about  the  branches,  and  innumer- 
able horns  and  bells  and  whistles.  Nothing 
was  lacking  for  this  wonderful  tree.  Ever- 
greens were  tacked  about  the  walls  and  over 
the  windows,  from  which  hung  dainty  lace 
curtains ;  and,  lastly,  handsome  gifts  for  the 
child  were  laid  out  on  the  day-bed.  It  was 
a  bower  of  beauty  that  almost  took  Alice's 
breath  away  as  she  looked  at  the  finished 
product,  while  Mary's  eyes  gleamed  with 
brilliant  high-lights. 

Sam,  quiet  though  he  was,  could  not  for- 


132  Uncle  Mary 


bear  smiling  and  saying,  " That's  the  purti- 
est  thing  my  eyes  ever  laid  on";  and  the 
chauffeur,  who  might  be  supposed  to  have 
seen  many  finer  and  more  beautiful  things 
in  metropolitan  homes  where  he  had  served, 
nodded  and  smiled  in  polite  agreement. 

"Now,  we  must  do  the  sitting  room,"  said 
Mary;  and  a  similar  transformation  took 
place  there.  Evergreens  hung  from  the 
walls,  rested  upon  the  window  and  door 
frames  and  adorned  the  few  pictures  while 
candles  were  securely  fitted  here  and  there 
in  safe  places.  It  was  as  pretty  as  the 
Christmas  tree  room,  they  thought,  when  it 
was  done,  and  they  could  look  at  it  after 
the  men  had  gone.  Then  Mary  brought  a 
gay  and  beautiful  Christmas  breakfast  cover 
for  the  table,  and  set  it  with  some  rare  old 
china  that  was  the  little  cottage's  most  valu- 
able possession.  It  had  been  handed  down 
from  the  Halsey  ancestor  who  had  first 
come  over  from  England.  Alice  looked  on 
it  all  with  delight  that  equaled  Mary's  pent- 
up  joy. 


A  Limousine  Christmas  133 

"How  are  you  going  to  manage  it  I"  came 
a  final  question  from  Alice. 

"I  am  going  to  get  up  before  day,  light 
the  candles  and  stir  up  the  base-burner. 
Then,  when  everything  is  ready,  I  am  going 
to  call  Elizabeth  and  tell  her  Christmas  is 
here,  and  I  know  she  will  be  ready  to  fly  up 
and  see  things !" 

Alice  laughed  in  responsive  anticipation, 
even  though  prudent  care  of  the  child  made 
her  say,  "But  don't  you  think  it  would  really 
be  better  to  wait  later  and  let  her  get  her 
sleep  out?" 

"No,"  said  Mary  emphatically.  "We 
were  always  kept  in  bed  Christmas  morning 
till  we  nearly  died  of  waiting,  and  I  am  go- 
ing to  have  this  child  ready  for  all  the  fun 
she  can  get  out  of  it." 

"Even  if  you  have  to  wake  her  to  get  it," 
laughed  Alice  again. 

"Yes;  for  of  course  they  could  not  have 
children  in  the  Home  up  and  flying  about  at 
all  hours  of  the  morning,  even  if  it  was 
Christmas;  and  so  she  is  not  full  of  day- 


134  Uncle  Mary 


light-getting-up-ideas,  as  we  were.  But  I 
want  her  to  have  it  all!" 

"  Jimmie  and  Anna  Stillwell  were  always 
allowed  to  get  up  whenever  they  waked,  I 
remember,"  said  Alice,  "and  that  was  what 
made  us  so  crazy  to  do  it,  too." 

Mary's  lips  set  at  this,  for  she  did  not  like 
arousing  old  memories.  Jimmie  Stillwell 
and  Elwood  had  almost  lived  together  as 
boys. 

This  little  rift  in  their  joy  made  them 
both  conscious  of  how  tired  they  were ;  and, 
with  a  last  look,  they  undressed  and  crept 
into  bed. 

How  much  these  two  slept  need  not  be 
estimated  or  recorded,  but  Mary  flashed  on 
an  electric  pocket-light,  which  she  had  kept 
by  her  bed  since  the  little  stranger  came, 
and  her  father's  watch,  which  was  always 
under  her  pillow,  said  it  was  half-past  five 
o'clock.  So  she  crept  out  of  bed,  dressed, 
noiselessly  stirred  the  sitting  room  fire,  and, 
with  long  tapers,  set  blazing  in  the  winter 
morning  all  the  candles  in  both  the  rooms 


A  Limousine  Christmas          135 

they  had  decorated.  Then  she  crept  back 
under  the  bed  covers  till  everything  should 
warm  up,  for  it  was  a  biting  Christmas 
morning. 

Of  course  Alice  was  awake  the  moment 
Mary  stirred,  and  was  soon  slipping  on  her 
clothes,  for  she  meant  to  be  as  far  ready -as 
possible,  so  that  Mary  would  have  no  excuse 
for  leaving  her  out — which  Mary  really  had 
no  intention  of  doing.  But  there  was  never 
any  telling  about  Mary,  Alice  had  come  to 
feel.  So,  cold  or  no  cold,  she  was  ready  with 
just  a  little  help  from  Mary  to  slip  into  her 
wheel  chair. 

When  Mary  stirred  the  next  time,  Alice 
whispered  almost  imploringly,  "Get  me  up 
first,  Mary,  please !" 

"All  right,''  Mary  whispered  back. 
"You  ready?" 

"Yes,  oh,  yes,"  came  from  Alice  excitedly, 
"  I  'm  ready  now ! ' ' 

Mary  stole  around  the  beds  and  promptly 
had  her  sister  in  the  wheel  chair.  Then 
came  the  most  exciting  moment !  The  wak- 


136  Uncle  Mary 

ing  of  that  small  sleeping  treasure  in  her 
little  be-frilled  bed, — for  she  had  never  had 
another,  since  she  so  loved  that  little  bed 
from  the  first.  The  two  women  looked 
breathlessly  down  upon  her  under  Mary's 
electric  light. 

The  child  stirred,  as  one  will  through  some 
strange  influence  of  being  closely  watched 
in  sleep.  Then  the  brown  eyes  opened  sud- 
denly ;  and  when  she  saw  the  two,  she  smiled 
and  said,  sleepily,  "Has  day  come1?" 

"Yes,"  cried  Mary,  in  trembling  glee, 
"day  has  come,  and  brought — what  do  you 
guess?" 

"Christmas!"  cried  the  child,  springing 
immediately  up.  For  hadn't  they  talked 
Christmas  all  the  week  ? 

"Yes,  yes!  Christmas  is  here,"  cried 
Alice  and  Mary  together.  "We'll  hustle 
out  as  fast  as  we  can  and  see  it,"  went  on 
Mary,  slipping  on  warm  stockings  and  the 
softest  and  downiest  of  little  robes  which 
had  come  in  the  child's  trunk,  and  which 
Mary  always  hung  at  the  foot  of  her  bed  at 


A  Limousine  Christmas  137 

night.  Then,  with  warm  slippers  on  the 
small  feet,  the  child  flew  from  Mary's  hand, 
at  last,  in  joyous  search  of  " Christmas." 
And  the  old  story  of  happy  childhood,  and 
tired,  but  even  more  deeply  happy  grown- 
ups, was  enacted  in  all  its  fullness  for  the 
first  time,  perhaps,  in  the  little  brown  cot- 
tage with  its  fine  Puritan  principles,  but  its 
frugal  and  awful  restraints. 

"Oh,  how  pretty,  how  pretty  the  tree  is!'' 
cried  Libbie  Lee  over  and  over,  while  she 
hugged  a  big  doll  whose  wardrobe  Mary 
and  Alice  had  worked  over  for  a  month  of 
nights  while  the  child  slept,  and  which  now 
lay  in  orderly  fashion  in  a  big  doll  trunk 
standing  on  top  of  the  old  day-bed.  Her 
gayety  and  joy  over  everything  as  it  was 
disclosed,  proved  all  that  Mary  and  Alice 
could  ask,  until  suddenly  the  small  face 
sobered,  and  then  she  said  plaintively:  "Oh, 
I  wish  the  children  in  the  'Home'  could  see 
it  all!  And  I  would  let  Emma  have  this 
little  chair,  and  little  Billie  this  horn!  He 
would  just  blow  and  blow  it,  and  make  such 


138  Uncle  Mary 

a  big  noise!"  And  she  laughed  in  gay  rec- 
ollection only  to  sober  again,  instantly,  as 
she  ran  .to  Mary  and  pleaded,  "Oh,  Uncle 
Mary,  couldn't  we  go  to  the  'Home'  and 
bring  them  here?" 

Of  course  the  child  had  little  idea  of  dis- 
tance, and  the  yearning  for  those  others  to 
share  in  all  this  bounteous  joy — Emma  and 
Billie  and  all  the  rest,  who  were  having  so 
little — came  to  her  not  at  all  as  budding 
altruism,  but  as  a  child's  natural  longing 
for  those  of  its  kind  in  Christmas  joy.  This 
must  be  the  conscious  or  unconscious  lament 
of  every  little  one  who  revels  alone  in 
Christmas  bounty. 

But  Mary  had  not  counted  on  this.  She 
had  only  thought  of  filling  full  the  cup  for 
this  one  child  of  her  heart.  That  something 
should  be  lacking,  made  her  almost  impa- 
tient for  a  moment,  while  she  answered, 
"No,  no!  That  is  too  far  away,  we  could 
not  go.  But  see!  Look  at  this  old  Santy 
with  his  reindeer  and  sled!  You  haven't 
seen  how  fast  he  can  go  over  roofs,  yet." 


A  Limousine  Christmas  139 

And  there  was  a  little  house  under  the 
Christmas  tree,  so  Mary  drove  the  prancing 
team  right  up  over  its  sloping  roof,  while 
Libbie  Lee  with  returning  spirits  laughed 
in  glee,  and  then  must  do  it,  too. 

They  were  seated  at  the  breakfast  table, 
at  last,  and  there  was  a  final  small  gift  at 
the  little  girl's  plate.  A  pretty  wee  hand- 
kerchief which  Auntie  Alice  had  made  for 
her,  with  a  nice  Christmas  card  tied  to  it. 

When  Mary  had  read  for  her  what  the 
card  said,  the  child  still  had  joy  left  for  the 
new  gift. 

"Did  you  make  it  all  yourself,  Auntie 
Alice?"  she  said. 

"All  myself,"  returned  smiling  Auntie 
Alice,  who  realized  to  the  full,  nevertheless, 
that  there  were  few  things  she  could  do  "all 
by  herself." 

The  little  girl's  face  sobered  again.  "I 
— I  haven't  made  anything  or  given  any- 
thing to  anybody!" 

The  little  lips  that  quivered  were  a  stab 
to  Mary's  heart  as  she  realized  that  she  had 


140  Uncle  Mary 


left  the  most  important  thing  of  all  out  of 
this  wonderful  Christmas:  The  spirit  of 
the  Christ-child  for  her  small  charge.  She 
did  not  know  how  to  find  Emma  and  Billie 
and  all  the  rest — and  she  didn't  want  to 
know — but  there  were  poor  children  in  Sun- 
field  whose  Christmas  she  might  have 
allowed  the  little  girl  to  brighten. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  FRIEND  AT  COUBT 

DURING  the  week  that  preceded  Christ- 
mas and  those  that  immediately  followed, 
nobody  within  reach  of  Sunfield  failed  of 
an  opportunity  to  see  that  gorgeous  limou- 
sine with  the  perfectly  up-to-date  young 
chauffeur;  and  Mary  Halsey's  burnt  orange 
plumes  nodded  almost  saucily  from  the  lux- 
urious rear  seat,  the  on-lookers  thought, 
while  Libbie  Lee's  delighted  face,  amid  soft 
encircling  furs,  peeped  out  at  them  from 
some  car  window.  How  the  child  loved  to 
ride!  And  Mary  simply  shoved  her  old 
New  England  conscience  far  into  the  back- 
ground of  her  life,  as  she  enjoyed  to  the  full 
the  hours  that  she  could  spend  with  "her 
child"  alone.  She  even  took  up  the  old 
dream  of  the  "husband"  again,  which  had 
largely  dropped  from  her  consciousness 

141 


142  Uncle  Mary 


since  the  coming  of  the  child.  "He  is  do- 
ing business  in  the  city,"  she  said,  in  gay 
make-believe  to  herself,  while  they  went 
skimming  over  snow-packed  roads,  Libbie 
Lee  chattering  about  everything  they 
passed,  and  asking  innumerable  questions. 

They  went  shopping  often  in  Barringer, 
and  Mary  bought  more  things  for  herself, 
since  Libbie  Lee  needed  nothing ;  she  bought 
no  extravagant  things,  but  a  few  pretty  and 
becoming  gowns  which  really  transformed 
her  from  a  drab  drudge  to  a  modern  up-to- 
date  young  woman.  Her  complexion  was 
fresh,  and  improving  in  texture  under  the 
new  care  which  Mary  was  surreptitiously 
giving  it.  Her  hair  was  growing  prettier 
each  day  under  the  hair-dresser's  occasional 
hand  and  teaching,  while  Libbie  Lee's 
interest  in  every  process  was  most  lively. 

"Uncle  Mary,  you  are  getting  to  be  the 
beautifullest  thing  I  ever  saw,"  she  would 
exclaim  with  little  clasped  hands.  But  it 
was  to  Alice's  arms  that  she  ran  when  they 


A  Friend  at  Court  143 

returned  to  the  little  brown  cottage!  So 
Mary's  face  still  held  the  lines  of  scornful 
fighting  against  things  she  couldn't  change. 
She  made  no  calls  on  neighbors ;  in  fact  call- 
ing, or  "running  in,"  in  Sunfield  parlance, 
to  see  friends,  was  a  thing  given  up  many 
years  ago,  following  the  avalanche  of  trouble 
which  had  come  upon  them  together  with 
the  beginning  of  strain  for  every  nerve  in 
Mary's  body  to  support  herself  and  Alice, 
and  to  keep  the  "chains"  that  the  old  sec- 
retary held  from  pressing  too  hard  upon 
her  and  the  little  brown  cottage.  If  it  had 
been  otherwise — if  she  could  have  had  fel- 
lowship in  neighborly  ways  with  the  town's 
people,  the  angular  lines  in  Mary's  face  and 
character  might  not  have  been  there.  But 
— "ifs"  are  always  in  waiting  for  humanity, 
and  Mary  could  not  escape  hers.  It  so  hap- 
pened, too,  that  people  had  come  to  do  their 
"running  in"  at  the  Halsey's  when  Mary 
was  away  sewing;  "because  Alice  was  alone 
so  much,"  they  said,  but  most  of  them  "got 
quite  enough  of  Mary's  sharp  tongue," 


144  Uncle  Mary 


Sophie  Stoneham  would  have  told  you,  when 
she  was  sewing  at  their  various  homes,  and 
were  willing  to  leave  it  out  of  possibility  in 
their  calls  upon  Alice. 

Now  that  old  neighbors  and  friends 
watched  her  from  front  windows  as  her 
burnt  orange  plumes  flew  past,  or  caught 
glimpses  of  her  short  skirts,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  the  town  was  in  a  gale  of  laughter  and 
comment. 

There  would  come  a  sudden  whirr  on  the 
still  winter  air  and  Sophie  Stoneham,  with 
one  bound,  was  at  the  front  pane — winded, 
but  still  able  to  gasp,  "Mary  Halsey  will  be 
the  death  of  me  yet!"  And  she  strained  to 
see  if  there  was  a  different  dress  on  this 
time!  Then,  with  the  motor  faintly  whir- 
ring off  in  the  distance,  she  would  make  her 
way  back  to  her  work  in  the  kitchen  with  the 
scornful  remark,  "Selfish  thing!  Nobody 
knows  what  right  she's  got  to  it,  either! 
She'll  get  a  come-down  yet  if  I  don't  miss 
my  guess!" 

Every  day  when  Carrie  came  home  from 


A  Friend  at  Court  145 

school,  Mrs.  Turner,  whose  house  set  far 
back  from  the  road,  would  ask,  "Did  you 
see  Mary  in  that  car  to-day?" 

"Yes,  Ma,  and  Libbie  Lee  looked  at  me 
and  smiled,  but  Mary  didn't  turn  her  head. 
I  so  wished  she  would  pick  me  up  and  take 
me  just  a  little,  teeny  ways." 

"Well,  you  needn't  wish,  for  Mary  Halsey 
ain't  going  to  take  you  nor  anybody  else  in 
that  car.  It's  perfectly  shameful  the  way 
she  has  left  us  all  with  our  sewing  to  do — 
and  then  riding  'round  like  a  queen  right 
under  our  eyes ! ' '  she  ended  sourly. 

•People  met  in  the  street  with  exclama- 
tions : '  *  Have  you  seen  her  ?  "  "  Mercy,  yes ! 
A  body  could  see  them  plumes  from  Mt. 
Pisgah  any  day!"  "Wonder  if  Mary  Hal- 
sey thinks  she's  sixteen?"  "How  old  is 
she,  anyway?"  "She's  twenty-seven  if 
she's  a  day,  for  I  remember — "  and  then 
followed  the  fatal  accuracy  of  related  occur- 
rences in  a  small  community. 

The  village  wag  brought  forth  this: 
"Mary  Halsey  is  as  big  a  surprise  to  this 


146  Uncle  Mary 

town  as  if  one  o'  my  onions  had  sprouted 
a  sunflower!" 

After  a  few  weeks  of  lively  reaction  on 
the  part  of  the  people,  Mr.  Stillwell,  the 
village  pastor  for  many  years,  was  walking 
along  the  road  with  bent  head,  when  he,  too, 
caught  the  whirr  of  Mary's  coming  car.  He 
halted  instantly,  and  stepping  into  the  road- 
way, held  up  his  cane  quite  authoritatively. 
The  chauffeur  slowed  down  and  tipped  his 
cap  respectfully.  Mr.  Stillwell  bowed  in 
response,  then  stepped  up  to  the  door  of  the 
car  on  the  side  where  Mary  sat.  She  stared 
for  a  moment  without  making  a  move,  but 
the  chauffeur  was  on  the  ground  in  an  in- 
stant and  had  the  door  open. 

Mr.  Stillwell  smiled  ingratiatingly  at 
Mary,  putting  unconsciously  a  new  element 
in  his  old  kindly  manner;  then  he  said, 
"Mary,  won't  you  let  your  old  pastor  have 
a  ride  in  your  new-fangled  outfit?" 

There  was  no  refusing  this  even  by  the 
crustiest  of  crusty  people,  which  Mary  was 
really  far  from  being.  She  was  simply  in 


A  Friend  at  Court  147 

the  crucible  which  was  shaping  her  life  and 
character,  with  first  one  angle,  then  an- 
other, presented  for  the  transforming 
process. 

"Why,  yes,  Mr.  Stillwell,"  she  said,  at 
last,  rather  stiffly.  "  Elizabeth  Lee  you  can 
sit  in  front,"  and  she  reached  to  pull  down 
one  of  the  extra  seats,  when  Mr.  Stillwell 
laid  a  firm  hand  on  hers. 

"No,  Mary,"  he  said,  "I  am  going  to  put 
little  Elizabeth  Lee  on  the  front  seat  with 
your  good  chauffeur.  I  know  she  will  love 
to  sit  there  and  look  out  at  the  front,"  with 
a  compelling  smile  for  the  child. 

But  Libbie  Lee  and  the  waiting  chauffeur 
both  turned  toward  Mary  for  instruction, 
and  Mary  could  not,  for  the  life  of  her,  do 
otherwise  than  nod  her  consent  to  the  chauf- 
feur and  say  to  Elizabeth  Lee,  "Very  well, 
you  may  sit  there  a  very  little  while!" 

A  most  adroit  hint  to  the  self-invited 
visitor,  which  he  proceeded  at  once  to 
ignore.  Settling  his  long  body  back  against 
the  soft  upholstery  of  the  car,  he  looked 


148  Uncle  Mary 

about  the  interior,  as  they  started  off  again, 
with  much  satisfaction. 

"Look  here,  Mary,  this  thing  just  about 
suits  me !  It  fits  my  rheumatic  legs  to  per- 
fection. I  wonder  I  never  thought  of  it 
before !  If  I  had,  this  town  would  certainly 
have  had  to  get  one  long  before  this."  And 
his  whimsical  smile  was  a  thing  no  one 
could  resist.  Mary's  heart  grudgingly 
warmed  to  it. 

"I'm  mighty  glad,  as  southern  folks  say, 
that  you've  got  it.  You  deserve  it,  Mary. 
You've  worked  hard,  child,  and  I  fairly 
revel  in  the  sight  of  you,  whirring  around 
the  streets  and  sending  the  rest  of  us  scurry- 
ing, with  the  chickens  and  the  dogs,  to 
cover." 

"I  guess  you  are  the  only  one  that  does 
enjoy  seeing  me  with  it,"  Mary  returned  in 
quiet  scorn. 

"No,  Mary,  no.  You  are  mistaken  there. 
With  the  hard  years  that  have  fallen  to  you, 
you  have  somehow  gotten  it  into  your  head 
that  the  town's  against  you.  But  it  isn't," 


A  Friend  at  Court  149 

"You  can't  tell  me,"  returned  Mary  with 
spirit.  "You  see  I  have  been  too  close  to 
all  of  them,  sewing  in  their  homes.  Pve 
seen  Joe  Steel  sullen  and  mean  to  his  wife 
when  she  was  sick  and  helpless;  I've  seen 
Mag  Turner  skim  the  last  shadow  of  cream 
off.  the  milk  she  had  to  sell,  and  I've  seen 
Sophie  Stoneham  strip  the  last  shred  of 
decency  from  a  young  girl's  reputation,  and 
they  all  hate  me  for  it." 

"Well,  we  will  let  them  all  alone,  though 
I  think  you  are  mistaken  in  what  you  say. 
The  greatest  damage  has  come  to  you  from 
your  own  heart,"  and  he  sat  back  with 
sudden  firmness.  "It  is  your  own  reaction 
to  these  close  contacts  that  has  made  you 
cynical  and  uncharitable." 

Mary  recognized  the  truth  of  this,  though 
she  made  no  reply,  and  her  lips  took  on  their 
old  firm  set. 

"No,  Mary,  I  am  not  talking  about  in- 
dividuals— every  town  has  its  assortment. 
Why,  we  would  all  stagnate  if  we  didn't 
have  some  folks  with  bristles  to  stir  us  up 


150  Uncle  Mary 


at  times !  But  I  am  talking  about  the  town 
as  a  whole ;  I  know  how  it  feels  toward  you 
for  I  have  taken  pains  to  find  out."  He 
did  not  add  that  he  had  gone  about  protect- 
ing her.  "It  is  glad  you  have  the  little  girl, 
wherever  she  may  have  come  from,  and  glad 
you  have  the  beautiful  car  to  ride  in — and 
nobody  but  me  is  going  to  ask  you  to  let 
them  ride  in  it.  You  see  I  couldn't  wait — 
it  fits  my  rheumatic  legs  so  well." 

And  Mary  and  he  laughed  together  over 
that,  but  Mary  quickly  sobered:  "I  am  sure 
Sophie  Stoneham  has  been  able  to  manu- 
facture some  dark,  hidden  chapter  in  my 
life  to  account  for  it  all." 

"No,  she  has  not,"  he  replied  firmly, — 
but  he  did  not  tell  her  that  he  had  stopped 
the  wheels  of  Sophie's  gossip  factory  before 
she  could  turn  out  the  finished  product. 
"  Sophie  has  had  her  fling  over  your  riding 
around  in  style,  but  there  has  been  nothing 
evil  in  it. 

"Nevertheless,  Mary,  I  want  to  talk  with 
you  about  this  thing.  You  really  owe  it  to 


A  Friend  at  Court  151 

us  to  give  some  explanation.  Now  take  me, 
for  instance,  I  am  so  curious  to  know  how 
it  all  came  about  that  I  don't  sleep  good 
nights!'' 

They  laughed  together  again  in  real  com- 
radeship, and  then  Mary  said  with  forced 
lightness : 

"Well,  I'm  curious  on  my  part,  to  know 
what  conclusion  you  have  all  come  to  when 
you  have  been  lying  awake  nights — for  I 
am  sure  you  are  not  the  only  one  who  has 
lain  awake." 

The  minister  waited  a  while  before  speak- 
ing ;  at  last  he  turned  and  looked  at  her  with 
tears  in  his  eyes — for  he  loved  his  peo- 
ple, and  it  was  a  keen,  long-standing 
regret  that  he  could  never  speak  to  the 
Halsey  girls  about  the  supposedly  erring 
brother. 

"Mary,  we  all  think  the  child  is  Elwood's ; 
that  his  wife  has  probably  died,  that  he  has 
made  plenty  of  money,  and  that  he  wants 
you  and  Alice  to  bring  up  the  child  in  the 
old  home  he  still  loves." 


152  "Uncle  Mary 


"No,"  Mary  cried,  "the  child  is  mine,  it 
was  sent  to  me!" 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  minister  soothingly. 
"It  would  naturally  be  sent  to  you." 

Mary  was  silent,  thinking  of  many  things. 
At  last  she  laid  a  hand  on  the  old  pastor's. 
He  grasped  it  eagerly. 

"That  is  all  right,"  she  said,  almost  under 
her  breath.  "Alice  thinks  so,  too.  But — 
and  you  must  not  tell  this  to  a  living  soul — 
I  don't  know!  Somehow  in  my  own  heart 
I  cannot  feel  that  he  sent  her.  Yet  it  is 
reasonable  to  think  as  you  and  Alice  do — 
and  so  I  am  acting  as  though  I  thought  so 
too!" 

"But,"  exclaimed  the  old  pastor, — "don't 
you  really  know?" 

"No,  I  don't!" 

And  then  she  told  him  all  there  was  to 
tell. 

When  she  was  through,  he  said  again  pos- 
itively, "But  the  child  must  be  El  wood's! 
That  is  the  only  rational  explanation  of  the 
whole  thing." 


A  Friend  at  Court  153 

"She  is  not  in  the  least  like  him,"  Mary 
returned. 

"That  may  be,  but  she  is  his,  we  may  be 
sure." 

"Have  it  that  way,  and  I  am  glad  the 
town  has  so  settled  it;  but  I  could  not  tell 
them  it  was  so,  and  I  could  not  tell  them 
anything.  I  thought  they  might  as  well 
work  with  a  whole  piece  of  uncharted  cloth 
as  with  a  few  scraps.  It  gives  them  a  better 
chance  to  work  out  something  interesting." 
And  she  smiled  with  a  touch  of  sarcasm 
again. 

The  old  minister  had  asked  few  questions ; 
he  simply  listened  to  Mary's  story,  and  by 
tacit  understanding  the  problem  as  to 
whether  Elwood  was  living  or  not,  was  left 
untouched.  There  was  silence,  now,  between 
them  while  the  car  skimmed  on  and  on,  and 
Elizabeth  Lee  chattered  away  to  the  chauf- 
feur, to  his  evident  liking,  till  at  last  Mary 
spoke  abruptly: 

"The  truth  is,  Mr.  Stillwell,  strange  as  it 
may  seem  to  you,  I  have  for  years  longed 


154  Uncle  Mary 


with  all  my  heart  for  a  child!  That's  a 
confession  no  old  maid  should  make,  but  it 
is  true." 

"My  dear,  my  dear,"  exclaimed  the  old 
doctor,  moved  as  he  rarely  had  been  in  his 
serene  life  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  beautiful 
Berkshire  hills,  where  life  flows  with  un- 
usual steadiness,  even  in  this  stirring  twen- 
tieth century.  For  such  a  statement  to 
come  from  Mary  Halsey  of  all  people!  It 
showed  that  the  frank  spirit  of  the  new  age 
had  penetrated  even  here  where  the  hills 
hold  their  own  in  rare  seclusion. 

Having  begun,  Mary  wanted  to  finish, 
with  the  peculiar  urge  out-of -character  im- 
pulses at  times  impose.  She  hurried  on, 
scarcely  noticing  the  old  man's  affectionate 
understanding. 

"I  wanted  a  child  so  terribly  that  I  did 
not  question  overmuch  how  this  one  was 
coming  to  me.  I  simply  grabbed  her,  so  to 
speak.  You  know,  really,  the  need  of  this 
century  is  to  provide  a  respectable  way  for 
old  maids  to  have  children,"  she  went  on, 


A  Friend  at  Court  155 

daringly,  ''especially  in  New  England  where 
there  are  so  many  of  us.'* 

The  old  pastor  laughed  heartily,  under- 
standing perfectly,  as  Mary  knew  he  would, 
and  putting  it  softly  away  for  no  future 
repetition,  as  Mary  also  knew  he  would. 

"Mary,  Mary,"  he  said  at  last,  "you  are 
a  real  woman,  although  you  have  tried  to 
make  us  all  think  you  were  not!" 

"Perhaps  so,  but  you  were  all  ready  to 
dub  me,  'Uncle  Mary.'  " 

Mr.  Stillwell  laughed  again  most  heartily, 
in  fact  it  was  a  "Ha,  Ha!"  that  even  made 
Libbie  Lee  turn  around  and  smile  at  them 
through  the  glass  partition  that  separated 
them. 

"Now,  Mary,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  got 
his  breath,  "you  know  that  you  have  bossed 
us  all  for  years  while  you  sewed  up  our 
shirts  and  made  our  dresses.  You  have 
even  measured  us  off  spiritually  on  the  yard 
stick  and  sized  us  up  unsparingly." 

"Have  I,  really?"  said  Mary,  with  a  pa- 
thetic sort  of  wonder. 


156  Uncle  Mary 


"But,  we  have  understood  you,  child,  and 
loved  and  respected  you — only  you  must  let 
us  have  our  little  fun.  You  know  New  Eng- 
land folk  can't  live  without  a  little  neigh- 
borly fun,  and  we  just  settled  some  old 
scores  with  this  *  Uncle  Mary,'  which  the 
great  little  treasure  of  your  life  brought 
with  her.  But  there  is  no  disrespect  meant 
in  it,  I  assure  you;  the  town  admires  the 
way  you  have  kept  things  together  here  for 
you  and  Alice,  when,  had  it  not  been  for 
her,  you  could  have  gone  away  and  found 
success — and  perchance  happiness,  for  you 
are  no  old  maid — not  even  yet.  That  you 
have  fine  business  qualities,  that  you  are  a 
strong,  fine  personality,  is  one  reason  the 
name  fits  you  so  well." 

The  old  minister  would  never  know  how 
he  soothed  Mary's  rebellious,  hurt  heart  with 
his  wise  words  and  perfect  understanding, 
while  she,  on  her  part,  would  never  know 
how  he  had  longed  to  help  her  through  all 
the  years,  when  he  knew  it  was  impossible 
to  try! 


A  Friend  at  Court  157 

The  chauffeur  had,  of  his  own  accord 
swung  around  a  circle,  and  they  were  in  the 
village  once  more,  so  Mary  directed  him  to 
the  parsonage  and  the  two  who  had  found 
understanding,  parted  with  only  a  hand- 
clasp which  said  all  they  wanted  to  say. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

INVESTIGATION 

IT  was  just  about  this  time,  perhaps  a  few 
days  before  Mary's  talk  with  Mr.  Stillwell, 
that  a  stranger  appeared  at  the  hotel  at 
Barringer.  He  was  well  dressed,  of  medium 
height  and  good  proportions,  dark  brown 
hair,  serious  eyes  and  determined  jaw, 
which  gave  a  distinct  impression  of  remote- 
ness until  suddenly  the  eyes  lit  up  with  a 
flash,  which  threw  him  into  a  new  world  of 
interest,  sympathy,  alertness,  humor.  He 
sat  idly  in  the  lobby  reading  a  morning 
paper;  but  an  observer  might  have  noticed 
that  he  glanced  up  at  each  entering  footstep ; 
and  that,  later,  when  a  somewhat  seedy  look- 
ing man  with  a  slouch  in  his  gait  which  pro- 
claimed him  the  hotel  lounger,  came  into  the 
room,  the  stranger's  eyes  flashed  just  a  little 
with  sudden  interest,  which  was  quickly  sub- 
dued while  he  read  on,  unconcerned,  for  per- 

158 


Investigation  159 


haps  an  hour.  He  rose  at  last  and  moved 
about  the  lobby,  consulting  his  watch  fre- 
quently, as  though  he  might  be  expecting 
some  one  who  was  a  bit  late.  He  finally 
paused  at  a  front  window  for  a  look  out- 
side, and  it  so  happened  that  it  was  the  win- 
dow near  which  the  seedy  individual  had 
seated  himself.  The  stranger  glanced 
toward  him  and  was  met  by  the  full  gaze  of 
the  other  man's  empty,  dreaming  orbs.  A 
glance  of  recognition  passed  between  them; 
the  stranger  nodded,  and  the  lounger  smiled 
slowly : 

"You  was  here  last  fall  sometime,  wasn't 
you?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  was — and  now,  I  remember, 
you  told  me  about  Sunfield  folks,  did  you 
not?"  and  the  stranger's  smile  was  quietly 
inviting. 

"Yes,"  drawled  the  other,  "and  p'rhaps 
you  remember  I  told  you  about  the  Halsey 
Girls.  Things  have  been  happening  to  them 
since  then.  If  you've  got  time  I'll  tell  you 
about  'em." 


160  Uncle  Mary 

The  stranger  looked  somewhat  reluctantly 
about  for  a  chair,  and  finally  drew  one  up, 
at  the  same  time  consulting  his  watch  and 
remarking,  "I  have  a  few  minutes." 

"Well,  the  Halsey  girls,  'specially  Mary, 
has  been  a  reg'lar  movie  show,  so  Sophie 
Stoneham  says,  for  the  hull  town.  First  a 
little  girl,  all  dressed  up  like  one  o'  them 
Fifth  Avenue  New  York  kids,  dropped  down 
on  the  girls — nobody  knows  from  where, 
but  everybody  thinks  it's  their  brother's 
child,  so  that  is  all  right.  Their  brother 
Elwood  run  away  years  ago  and  never  has 
been  heard  from.  Then  one  o'  them  big  li- 
mousines, with  a  smart  chauffeur,  dropped 
down  out  the  sky,  too,  and  the  way  Mary 
swells  around  in  that  thing,  certainly  must 
call  attention  of  her  Pa  and  Ma  in  them 
upper  regions.  Then  the  way  she  dresses 
scandalizes  the  town." 

The  stranger  smiled  slowly,  as  he  said: 
"The  town  thinks  there  is  something 
wrong?"  with  a  quiet  rising  inflection. 

"No,  not  exactly.    I  told  Sophie  Stone- 


Investigation  161 


ham  when  I  met  her  on  the  street  here  a  few 
days  ago,  that  they  was  all  jealous  because 
they  didn't  have  finery  and  limousines  and 
chauffeurs  too. ' '  The  narrator  paused  here 
for  enjoyment  of  his  own  penetration. 
Then  he  went  on:  "But  Mary's  been  too 
straight  all  her  life  for  folks  to  get  up  much 
dirty  gossip  now,  'specially  since  there  ain't 
been  no  man  seen  around — and  the  town's 
had  their  eyes  open,  too.  Old  Mr.  Stillwell, 
the  pastor  at  Sunfield  long  before  Mary  was 
born,  wouldn't  stand  for  no  gossip  'bout  her 
noway.  The  trouble  is,  them  Halseys  have 
been  too  close-mouthed  ever  since  Elwood 
run  away;  so  Mary  won't  tell  nobody 
nothing.  But  the  town  thinks  Elwood  sends 
her  the  money,  or  else  he's  dead  and  left 
it — Well,  I  swun !  There  she  is  now  in  her 
limousine,  just  stopping  at  that  store  next 
door!  See  her — she's  getting  out — with  all 
them  yaller  plumes  bobbing  about  on  her 
head!" 

And  the  stranger  glanced  out,  with  no 
great  display  of  interest,  as  a  lady,  well 


162  Uncle  Mary 


dressed,  and  tastefully,  in  spite  of  the 
"yaller  plumes,"  stepped  from  her  car  and 
turned  her  face  directly  toward  them  as  she 
did  so.  An  instant  showed  a  face  of  good 
contour  and  features,  but  the  expression 
was  not  winning.  The  next  moment  she  had 
bent  toward  the  little  girl  whom  the  chauf- 
feur had  helped  out,  and  taking  the  child's 
hand,  disappeared  in  the  store. 

"Well,  changes  come  to  everybody, 
whether  they  are  in  a  village  or  a  city,"  said 
the  stranger ;  and  then  he  looked  at  his  watch 
again,  murmuring,  "I  must  be  off,"  and 
stepped  briskly  over  to  the  clerk,  gathered 
up  his  hand  baggage  and  disappeared. 

As  he  went  out  he  said  to  himself :  "Not 
yet,  not  yet." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"STAN'  STILL!" 

THE  next  Sunday  after  Miranda  Evans 
had  said  she  would  teach  the  children  no 
more,  Mary  had  gone  with  Elizabeth  Lee  to 
church  and  Sunday  school  as  usual,  and 
when  they  walked  into  the  primary  room 
sure  enough,  no  Miranda  Evans  was  in  the 
teacher's  place.  And  the  little  group  of 
scholars  were  wide-eyed  and  inquiring. 

"Where  do  you  think  Miranda  can  be?" 
was  whispered  back  and  forth.  Everybody 
waited  full  ten  minutes — wasted  minutes, 
for  Miranda  Evans  had  meant  what  she  said 
the  Sunday  before,  and  she  never  entered  the 
room  again.  The  problem  of  "why"  was  an 
unexplained  mystery,  for  who  would  dare 
undertake  to  penetrate  the  workings  of  a 
New  England  spinster's  mind  of  the  last 
generation?  Faithful,  untiring,  conse- 

163 


164  Uncle  Mary 

crated,  repressed,  she  took  what  came  to  her 
— made  decisions,  forebore  explanations, 
and  went  on  the  even  tenor  of  her  way  with 
the  gray  finality  of  her  granite  hills.  Mi- 
randa came  no  more,  and  that  was  all  there 
was  to  it. 

Mary  Halsey  again  was  prepared  on  the 
lesson,  and  again  taught  the  children.  But 
it  was  going  to  be  about  as  drab  an  affair 
as  Miranda's  weekly  lesson,  she  scornfully 
said  to  herself,  as  she  took  her  place  before 
them.  But  her  interest  quickened  at  once 
in  the  process  of  trying  to  make  twenty 
youngsters,  of  varying  ages  and  both  sexes, 
listen  while  she  talked.  Miranda  had  al- 
ways been  content  if  she  had  kept  the  boys 
from  throwing  wads  of  paper,  or  sticking 
pins  into  one  another.  But,  listening  to 
Miranda's  dull  attempts,  and  disgust  with 
her  own  best  efforts,  made  Mary  feel  that 
there  must  be  a  better  way  of  doing  it  than 
Sunfield  had  yet  found.  So,  when  Mr. 
Stillwell,  during  the  next  week,  put  before 
her  the  finality  of  Miranda's  resignation 


'Stan'  Still!"  165 


and  his  keen  desire  that  Mary  become  the 
regular  primary  teacher,  the  thing  most  un- 
expectedly appealed  to  her.  Would  it  not 
be  another  avenue  to  Elizabeth  Lee's 
heart  ? 

The  making  more  of  the  lesson  between 
them,  and  then  the  challenge  of  teaching 
the  class,  with  the  little  girl  in  it,  made 
powerful  appeal  to  her. 

So,  she  had  gone  on  doing  the  best  she 
could  for  a  few  weeks.  Then  came  the  talk 
with  Mr.  Stillwell,  and  it  was  not  many  days 
after  that  her  limousine  drew  up  in  front  of 
the  parsonage,  the  chauffeur  dismounted, 
helped  her  and  Elizabeth  Lee  out,  and  the 
two  went  into  the  parsonage. 

It  had  been  fully  ten  years  since  Mary 
Halsey  was  there.  No  wonder  dear  Mrs. 
Stillwell 's  black  lace  head-dress  fluttered  on 
her  round,  bare  crown,  and  that  the  white 
silken  fringe  of  hair  which  was  gathered 
into  a  soft  knot  at  the  back,  almost  broke 
from  its  moorings  as  she  tore  her  reading 
glasses  from  their  place  and  strained  her 


166  Uncle  Mary 

neck  to  see  Mary  alight  and  come  up  the 
path. 

"Father!"  the  old  lady  cried,  as  she 
wildly  reached  for  his  knee,  " there's  Mary 
Halsey  and  her  limousine!" 

The  little  wasted  figure  of  a  boy  about 
seven  on  the  couch  beneath  the  window  was 
electrified  at  this  unusual  demonstration* 
and  the  thin  face  under  a  thick  crown  of 
brown  hair,  was  up  at  the  window  in  a 
twinkling  to  look  out. 

"Oh,  Grand,"  he  cried  in  turn,  "see  the 
little  girl !  She's  just  about  my  size ! "  And 
then  he  had  to  drop  back,  for  the  small 
sharp  elbow  had  no  staying  power. 

But  Mr.  Stillwell  had  been  roused  by  the 
old  lady's  cry  with  quite  as  much  vigor  as 
had  moved  the  little  boy,  and  he  was  at  the 
door  by  the  time  Mary's  knock  sounded. 

"Why,  Mary,  Mary,  come  in,  come  in! 
And  Miss  Elizabeth  Lee,  too,  come  right 
into  the  sitting  room,"  said  he,  while  Mrs. 
Stillwell 's  knotted  hands  had  quickly 
smoothed  down  her  excited  locks  so  that  she 


'Stan'  Still!"  167 


was  at  the  sitting  room  door  with  out- 
stretched hand  and  tender,  smiling  welcome. 

Mary  blushed  under  it  all,  for  she  knew 
she  did  not  deserve  it — and  she  would  have 
liked  to  say  so,  but  the  words  would  not 
come, — and  then  she  saw  Elizabeth  Lee 
walking  straight  up  to  the  wasted  figure  of 
the  little  boy  lying  on  the  couch  just  under 
the  window.  The  three  older  people  in- 
stinctively stopped  to  watch  them. 

The  two  smiled  at  each  other  first ;  Eliza- 
beth Lee's  a  sunny,  comradely  little  smile, 
and  the  boy's  just  a  wee  ghost  with  sudden 
yearning  for  life. 

"You're  sick,"  said  Elizabeth  Lee. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  little  boy. 

Then  Elizabeth  Lee  put  her  two  pudgy 
little  arms  around  him  and  kissed  him! 

The  three  on-lookers  found  their  eyes  full 
of  sudden  tears. 

"I'll  do  things  for  you,"  went  on  Eliza- 
beth Lee,  "  I  '11  just  love  to !  That 's  the  way 
we  did  at  the  'Home.'  When  anybody  was 
sick,  somebody  always  did  things  for  them, 


168  Uncle  Mary 

and  I  want  to  do  things  for  you.  May  I, 
Uncle  Mary?"  she  turned  quickly  and 
asked. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mary,  with  constraint, 
for  it  came  to  her  that  she  had  heard  some 
months  before  that  this  little  grandson  had 
been  left  with  the  old  pastor  and  his  wife; 
that  he  was  a  victim  of  the  dreadful  African 
fever ;  that  his  father,  who  was  a  missionary 
to  Africa,  had  brought  him  to  America,  hop- 
ing he  would  soon  recuperate.  But  he  had 
not ;  and  so,  had  been  left  in  the  old  grand- 
parents' care  while  the  father  returned  to 
his  family  and  work,  with  the  doctor's 
assurance  that  time  would  restore  the  boy. 
Here  he  had  been,  a  little  helpless  invalid 
ever  since,  and  she  had  never  taken  enough 
interest  to  inquire  about  him !  Now,  as  she 
looked  at  him,  she  saw  the  brown  eyes  of 
Jimmy  Still  well  set  in  the  little  fellow's 
face;  and,  instantly,  Jimmy  and  Elwood 
were  racing  about  the  old  brown  cottage ! 

But  these  eyes  weren't  merry,  mischievous 
ones  like  Jimmy's!    They  were  dull,  pa- 


Stan'  Still!"  169 


thetic,  listless,  matching  the  pallor  of  the 
small  face,  and — Oh,  if  they  should  close 
and  the  little  thin  legs  straighten,  it 
would  be  Jimmy  Stillwell  lying  dead  before 
her! 

What  was  the  matter  with  her?  Was 
she  going  to  collapse  over  an  imagination? 
She  straightened  quickly,  as  she  took  a  seat 
at  Mrs.  Stillwell 's  cordial  invitation,  and 
the  old  people  drew  chairs  close  to  hers,  but 
the  children  continued  to  hold  their  atten- 
tion. Elizabeth  Lee,  standing  close,  was 
patting  the  little  boy's  arm;  and  he  looked 
pleased,  though  he  usually  scorned  petting. 
Somehow,  with  a  boy's  mother  away  in 
Africa,  even  if  a  boy  was  sick — or  perhaps 
all  the  more  so  because  he  was — it  wasn't 
easy  to  take  petting  from  anybody  else! 
And  grandfather  and  grandmother  had 
understood.  But  the  brown  eyes  were  smil- 
ing back  into  the  little  girl's  round  face, 
now,  and  when  she  said,  "What  is  your 
name?"  he  replied  with  a  real  laugh,  "Stan' 
Still." 


170  Uncle  Mary 


Elizabeth  Lee  laughed  too,  and  said,  "But 
you  do  not  stand  a  bit,  do  you*?" 

"Not  now,"  he  still  smiled  back;  "but 
I'm  going  to."  And  there  was  a  little  ring 
to  his  voice.  "What  is  your  name?"  he 
asked  her. 

Elizabeth  Lee  looked  furtively  around  at 
Uncle  Mary,  then  turned  back  and  whis- 
pered, "Libbie  Lee  Starling,  and  sometimes 
it's  Libbie  Love!" 

The  older  folks  did  not  catch  what  she 
said,  and  Grandmother  Stillwell  instantly 
felt  they  must  not  eavesdrop  any  more,  so 
began  conversation  with  Mary;  and  Mary, 
taking  up  the  purpose  of  her  visit  with 
characteristic  definiteness,  told  the  old  min- 
ister of  her  feeling  that  there  were  modern 
ways  of  teaching  children,  about  which  she 
knew  nothing,  and  that  she  was  anxious  to 
study,  investigate,  do  anything  necessary  to 
prepare  herself  for  the  task  she  had  under- 
taken. The  old  minister  beamed  within, 
but  he  only  met  Mary's  proposition  with 
quick  interest,  told  her  of  some  books  to 


Stan'  Still!"  171 


order  and  suggested  that  she  visit  the  Sun- 
day Schools  of  their  nearest  large  towns  for 
ideas. 

Mary  said  that  was  in  line  with  what  she 
was  thinking,  and  that  she  would  also  visit 
the  kindergarten  in  Barringer — perhaps 
some  other  places  as  well,  and  "  just  see  how 
they  handle  children  now." 

"From  what  I  have  heard, "  she  said, 
"  which  I  admit  has  not  been  much,  they 
don't  expect  them  to  sit  still  on  benches  like 
sticks  for  an  hour  or  two  at  a  time, — punish 
them  if  they  laugh,  or  shake  the  life  out  of 
them  if  they  fall  asleep!" 

"  You  're  right,  Mary,  modern  folks  won't 
have  some  sins  to  answer  for,  that  we  old 
ones  may  have  to  get  pretty  hot  over  one  of 
these  days,"  he  smiled  ruefully. 

Just  then  Elizabeth  Lee  left  the  little  boy 
and  ran  to  Mary's  knee,  "Oh,  Uncle  Mary, 
can't  I  take  Stan'  Still  to  ride?" 

The  older  folks  laughed  at  her  literal  ac- 
ceptance of  the  little  boy's  name,  and  he 
laughed  himself,  saying  slowly,  "Libbie  Lee, 


172  Uncle  Mary 

that  is  just  what  mother  used  to  call  me, 
because  I  never  would  stand  still  a  minute 
• — though  that  was  a  long  time  ago.  My 
name's  Stanley  Stillwell,"  he  added,  em- 
phasizing the  "ley." 

Upon  which  Elizabeth  Lee  ran  back  to 
him  in  delight:  "Oh,  you've  got  Lee  in  your 
name  just  like  I  have!"  And  she  ever 
afterward  persisted  in  calling  him,  "Stan- 
Lee,"  with  the  emphasis  on  the  last  syllable. 
"But,  Uncle  Mary,"  she  turned  again  to 
Mary,  "can't  I  take  him  to  ride?" 

" Certainly,"  replied  Mary,  embarrassed 
that  she  could  have  had  the  car  so  long — 
and  never  thought  of  any  little  sufferer 
whom  she  might  take — worse  than  that,  had 
hardened  her  heart  to  the  one  before  her  eyes 
all  the  time — her  sister,  Alice.  It  looked 
wicked  beyond  belief  to  her,  at  this  moment ! 

Grandmother  Stillwell  was  at  the  little 
boy's  side  in  an  instant,  all  solicitude;  "Do 
you  think  you  feel  able  to  go,  dearie?" 

"Yes,  Grander,"  he  said,  determinedly. 
Grandfather  was  "Grand"  to  him,  and 


'Stan'  Still!"  173 


grandmother,  "Grander";  so  Grand  com- 
ing up  quickly,  too,  agreed  with  an  urgent, 
"Let  him  go  mother;  it  will  do  him  good. 
He  needn't  go  far,  you  know." 

"I  will  look  after  him  carefully,"  said 
Mary  earnestly,  and  all  in  a  twinkling,  the 
little  fellow  was  warmly  bundled  up,  then 
Stafford,  the  strong  young  chauffeur, 
carried  him  out  in  his  arms  and  laid  him 
across  the  luxuriously  cushioned  back  seat, 
while  Mary  and  Elizabeth  Lee  sat  in  the  two 
front  adjustable  seats,  though  the  little  girl 
was  oftener  on  the  floor  of  the  car,  showing 
"Stan-Lee"  things,  or  just  sitting  up  close 
to  him  and  looking  at  him  in  the  freedom  of 
childhood.  Once  she  pulled  out  a  tiny  curl 
of  her  hair  and  leaned  over,  stretching  it  to 
his  brown  head. 

"Your  hair  is  just  like  mine,"  she  cried 
happily,  "and  your  eyes,  too,"  she  went  on, 
with  a  note  of  triumph  at  the  end.  And  his 
lusterless  brown  eyes  resurrected  a  real 
twinkle,  as  he  replied: 

"Only  yours  are  heaps  the  prettiest!" 


174  Uncle  Mary 

Libbie  Lee  was  truly  a  little  mother,  born ; 
but,  beside  this,  having  left  a  "Home"  full 
of  children,  she  was  also  hungry  for  the  in- 
timate touch  of  her  kind,  and  so  was  the 
little  boy  for  that  matter.  The  old  people 
had  not  thought  of  trying  to  have  children 
with  him ;  they  were  just  waiting  for  him  to 
get  strong  enough  for  that,  never  realizing 
that  strong  children  help  more  than  grown 
people  can  to  give  courage  and  love  of  life 
to  their  weaker  little  fellows. 

It  was  a  ride  not  to  be  described ;  too  full 
of  happiness  for  the  children,  and  too  full  of 
tender  budding  things  for  Mary — things 
such  as  yearning  over  helplessness;  old 
memories  tugging  at  her  heart ;  strong  love 
for  children  that  was  a  new,  more  unselfish 
thing,  perhaps,  than  she  had  known.  The 
little  boy  had  crept  into  her  heart  beside  the 
little  girl,  and  she  was  instantly  aware  that 
she  was  going  to  do  everything  she  could  for 
him  with  no  thought  of  returns.  Perchance 
in  time  she  would  even  learn  to  be  less  sel- 
fish with  Elizabeth  Lee! 


CHAPTER  XV 

FINDING  NEW  PATHS 

WHAT  a  way  the  days  sometimes  have  of 
taking  wings !  And  carrying  one  into  new, 
glad  things,  as  well!  It  is  just  as  though 
one  had  turned  from  a  tortuous  lane  of 
struggle  and  uncertainty  into  a  highway, 
with  green  shrubs  and  blossoming  trees  on 
either  side,  all  racing  gayly  with  you.  It 
was  thus  that  things  went  for  Mary  during 
the  early  spring  months.  Indeed,  nature, 
herself,  had  taken  just  such  an  overnight 
turn,  in  a  way  that  only  New  England 
knows.  The  struggle  of  the  winter  lingers 
wearily  with  clouds  and  chill  and  sullen  ice. 
Then,  lo!  A  morning  comes,  almost  un- 
heralded, when  the  apple  blossoms  are  smil- 
ing from  every  orchard  and  wayside  lane; 
when  birds  are  singing  and  busy  with  their 
nests,  and  when  golden  sunshine  kisses  every 

175 


176  Uncle  Mary 


spear  of  grass  and  each  blossoming,  singing 
thing!  Mary  made  the  turn  with  nature 
that  spring,  and  the  beautiful  dark  blue 
limousine  often  went  gliding  here  and  there 
through  the  blossoming,  budding  fields  with 
an  equally  gay  entourage.  Every  day  after 
that  first  visit  to  the  parsonage  and  the  find- 
ing of  limp,  listless  little  "Stan*  Still,"  her 
car  had  been  at  the  door;  and  it  was  only 
a  few  times  that  the  boy  was  taken  from  his 
couch  under  the  window,  coverings  and  all, 
and  carried  out  to  lie  on  that  luxurious  rear 
seat,  with  Elizabeth  Lee  "doing  things"  for 
him.  Then,  he  was  suddenly  attired  in  a 
dark  blue  sailor  suit,  with  a  rough-and-ready 
warm  overcoat  buttoned  beneath  his  chin; 
and,  instead  of  lying  down  when  Stafford 
had  carried  him  out,  he  sat  upright  on  the 
big  seat  and  Elizabeth  Lee  beside  him.  A 
gay  little  pair  they  were;  Mary  had  to  ad- 
monish them,  again  and  again,  lest  the  little 
boy  get  too  tired. 

"  Why,  Uncle  Mary,  this  is  nothing !    You 
should    just    have    seen    me    in    Africa — 


Finding  New  Paths  177 

'specially  when  we  first  went  there.  The 
way  I  did  get  after  those  lizards  that  were 
all  over  our  house!  They  found  out  what 
an  American  boy  was,"  he  ended  with  a 
little  nervous  boy-brag. 

Mary  smiled  at  him,  but  Elizabeth  Lee 
said  wonderingly,  " What's  lizards?" 

"You  know  what  a  snake  is,  don't  you?" 
The  little  girl  nodded  fearsomely,  and  the 
boy  went  on,  "  They  're  snakes,  almost,  only 
they're  not  so  long  and  have  got  legs  on 
their  sides.  Some  of  them  are  little  teeny 
grayish- white  things  that  crawl  all  over  the 
ceilings  at  night — and  they  scared  sister 
nearly  to  death  at  first.  Then  there  are 
great  big,  kind  o'  red  fellows  that  are  enough 
to  scare  anybody  when  you  first  see  them. 
Father  wasn't  with  us  when  we  went  into 
the  house,  and  when  mother  and  sister  were 
so  scared  with  the  ugly  things  everywhere, 
I  just  went  after  them,  I  tell  you!  But 
father  came  in  pretty  soon  and  said  nobody 
need  be  afraid  of  them,  for  they  wouldn't 
hurt  anybody,  and  that  people  over  there 


178  Uncle  Mary 

wanted  them,  tried  to  keep  them,  so  that 
they  could  eat  up  the  flies  and  insects  that 
were  bad." 

Mary  exclaimed  at  this;  "You  don't  tell 
me  your  father  and  mother  have  to  live  with 
their  house  full  of  lizards  all  the  time!" 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,"  Stanley  returned, 
with  full-fledged  boy-scorn.  "How'd  you 
like  to  live  in  a  city  of  ninety  thousand 
black  people,  with  ugly  black  bodies  that 
you  see  almost  all  of — and  you  the  only 
white  folks  in  the  town — just  your  father 
and  your  mother  and  you  and  your  sister?" 

"Now,  Stanley,  you  mustn't  tell  us  any 
more  dark  things  this  nice  spring  morning," 
said  Mary  decidedly,  while  inwardly  she 
thought,  "Have  I  ever  made  any  sacrifices 
in  my  life  <?  Think  of  little  old  Jimmy  Still- 
well  giving  up  every  comfort  this  country 
had  to  offer,  and  going  to  such  a  place  to 
live — simply  with  the  doubtful  hope  of  help- 
ing a  few  out  of  those  thousands  of  ugly 
blacks  to  find  God!  And  how  he  and  El- 
wood  had — " 


Finding  New  Paths  179 

But,  with  her  admonition,  they  all  came 
back  to  the  lovely  spring  day  which  had 
suddenly  been  dropped  down  by  nature's 
hand,  marking  a  new  era  of  life  and  growth, 
and  including  Stanley  and  Elizabeth  Lee 
in  the  things  of  change.  For  she  was  to  be 
no  longer  the  little  brooding  mother,  just 
revelling  in  doing  things  for  him.  He  was 
a  real  boy  from  that  morning,  telling  her 
wonderful  tales  of  that  strange  country 
where  he  had  lived  for  one  year — and,  yes, 
letting  her  know  in  nice,  but  clear-cut  boy- 
ways  that  he  was  the  leader  and  chief  of 
their  small  tribe  of  two! 

From  that  morning  strength  came  with  a 
rush  to  Stanley;  and,  upon  the  very  next 
ride,  Mary  had  Sam  Oldham  to  help  the 
chauffeur,  and  Alice  was  easily  transferred 
from  her  wheel  chair  to  the  big  limousine ! 

When  Mary  announced  that  she  was  to  go 
• — that  was  still  Mary's  way — Alice  had  pro- 
tested firmly  that  she  did  not  believe  she 
could  go;  and  when  Mary  persisted,  she 
cried  almost  in  a  whisper,  "But,  Mary, — 


180  Uncle  Mary 

you  don't  know!  I  haven't  been  outside  in 
so  long — I  am  afraid,  I  am,  really,  afraid, 
Mary!"  And  her  usually  quiet  lips 
trembled  as  she  added,  "It  may  hurt,  you 
know." 

Libbie  Lee  had  danced  on  ahead,  over- 
joyed that  Auntie  Alice  was  going,  and 
Mary,  looking  about  to  see  that  they  were 
alone,  put  tender  arms  around  her  sister  and 
said,  "But  you  will  not  be  afraid  when  we 
really  get  started!  It  is  just  as  soft  as  a 
bed — only  more  so,"  urged  Mary,  "and  if  it 
hurts  you  the  least  bit,  we  will  come  straight 
back." 

It  was  not  the  words,  for  Alice  did  not 
hear  them,  but  the  marvelous  manner  of 
Mary  that  made  Alice  yield,  with  fear  all 
gone,  and  assurance  striding  into  its  place. 
And  when  Alice  leaned  back  against  the 
pillows  that  had  been  piled  up  behind  her 
on  the  soft  cushioned  seat,  Libbie  Lee 
clapped  her  hands  and  cried,  "Now,  you 
will  always  go,  won't  you,  Auntie  Alice?" 
her  little  face  beaming. 


Finding  New  Paths  181 

This  made  Mary  wince  a  bit,  but  she  had 
started  unconsciously  on  the  broad  highway 
of  unselfishness  and  it  still  beckoned  her  on. 
So  the  apple  trees  blossomed  with  promise 
of  fruit,  as  they  drove  out  toward  Barringer 
to  try  the  motion  of  the  car  for  Alice  with 
no  one  looking  on.  But,  after  a  mile  of 
careful  driving,  she  declared  the  motion  did 
not  hurt  her  the  least  bit,  and  with  joy  and 
spring  in  her  gentle  eyes  once  more,  Mary 
could  not  resist  Libbie  Lee's  plea  that  they 
go  by  and  let  Stanley  see  Auntie  Alice  rid- 
ing in  the  car. 

"I  would  so  love  to  see  the  old  street 
again,  and  the  houses  and  the  church  and 
everything/'  cried  Alice  tremulously,  as 
they  turned  back  toward  the  village.  It  was 
like  a  resurrection  to  her. 

So  they  drove  slowly  through  the  street, 
and  finally  stopped  at  the  parsonage  when 
Grand  and  Grander  Stillwell  came  hurrying 
out  to  the  gate,  Grander 's  head-dress  and 
snowy  fringe  fluttering  in  the  spring  breeze 
under  her  excitement,  and  Grand  forgetting 


182  Uncle  Mary 


there  ever  was  such  a  thing  as  rheumatism, 
while  Stanley  just  walked  out  on  his  own 
two,  quite  firm  legs,  without  leave  or 
license. 

It  was  a  real  jollification  they  all  had,  and 
Libbie  Lee  begged  so,  and  Stanley  looked 
so  fit  and  fine  after  his  walk,  that  Stafford 
went  back  for  his  light  overcoat  on  the  hall 
rack,  and  he  was  tucked  in  beside  Auntie 
Alice  for  just  a  wee  ride  more. 

"I  see  there's  going  to  be  no  chance  for 
me  any  more,"  said  the  old  minister  with 
mock  plaintiveness,  and  then  nothing  would 
do  for  anybody,  from  Mary  down  to  Libbie 
Lee,  but  that  Grander  should  put  on  her 
bonnet  and  shawl  and  sit  on  one  of  the 
adjustible  seats  beside  Mary,  while  Grand 
went  for  his  hat  and  coat  and  sat  with  the 
chauffeur. 

So  it  was  the  gayest  sort  of  a  party  that 
went  down  the  spring  highway  for  a  mile, 
and  then  drove  back,  lest  Alice  get  too  tired, 
dropped  the  Stillwells,  including  Stanley,  at 
their  house,  and  made  its  way  back  to  the 


Finding  Neiv  Paths  183 

little  brown  cottage  where  Sam  Oldham 
waited  to  help  Alice  back  to  the  wheel  chair 
once  more. 

"I  certainly  am  Cinderella  and  have  been 
carried  off  by  the  fairy  godmother  of  a 
limousine,"  she  cried,  "for  it  does  not  seem 
possible  that  I  have  really  been  out  and  seen 
the  town  once  more!" 

Libbie  Lee  hung  happily  over  her;  "But 
you  did  go,  Auntie  Alice;  so  you  see  folks 
don't  have  to  have  good  feet  or  backs,  or 
good  heads,  if  they  have  nice  lim 'sines.  You 
and  Stanley  can  both  go,  now,  all  the  time," 
she  persisted  again. 

And  Mary  winced  again.  But,  of  course 
it  was  not  possible  for  Alice  to  go  all  the 
time,  and  Mary's  new,  broad  highway  in- 
cluded many  blossoming  ways.  She  must 
go  to  Sunday  Schools  in  neighboring  larger 
towns ;  she  must  go  to  kindergarten  schools 
within  reach  and  observe  modern  methods 
with  children.  So,  while  she  did  not  forget 
Alice  and  Grand  and  Grander,  including 
them  often  in  short  rides — and  often,  again, 


184  Uncle  Mary 

making  up  parties  of  children  to  go — the  car 
and  the  chauffeur  were  kept  busy  mainly 
with  these  business  trips,  as  Mary  called 
them.  But  Elizabeth  Lee  and  Stanley  al- 
ways went,  for  his  strength  was  rapidly 
equal  to  it,  and  the  visits  to  schools  where 
children  were  taught  in  such  an  attractive 
way  as  modern  methods  present,  gave  them 
constant  delight  and  taught  them  the  things 
they  should  be  learning  in  just  the  way  that 
was  best  for  the  time. 

But  not  only  did  these  two  especially 
favored  little  ones  begin  to  reap  benefit  and 
gather  delight,  but  the  little  folk  of  the  town 
very  soon  entered  into  what  seemed  almost 
a  fairy  land  to  them. 

Secret  things  were  going  on  for  the  whole 
of  one  week,  with  nobody  knowing  except 
Mary's  helpers  and  her  two  children,  as  she 
had  come  to  call  them  in  her  heart,  with, 
of  course,  Auntie  Alice.  Then  late  Satur- 
day afternoon  when  everything  was  all 
finished,  came  the  exhibition.  Mary,  with 
Elizabeth  Lee,  full  of  excitement,  drove  up 


Finding  New  Paths  185 

to  the  parsonage  for  Grand  and  Grander 
and  Stanley.  They  came  out  to  the  car 
beaming.  Stanley  because  he  knew  the 
secret  was  to  come  out;  and  the  two  old 
people  because  it  delighted  them  to  see  that 
car  and  the  new  Mary  with  her  dear  little 
charge,  come  to  their  door. 

" Everybody  is  to  get  in,"  cried  Mary, 
and  Elizabeth  Lee  scrambled  out  the  car 
door  in  her  eagerness  to  make  sure  they 
were  going  to  come. 

"Yes,  Grander,  do  come,"  she  tugged  at 
the  old  lady's  dress  and  pleaded — as  if  any 
pleading  were  going  to  be  necessary ! 

Stopping  only  long  enough  to  kiss  her, 
Mrs.  Stillwell  hurried  in  for  her  bonnet, 
while  Stanley  met  her  coming  out,  tugging 
at  his  light  coat,  as  he  ran,  and  bringing 
Grand's  hat  on  top  of  his  own  snug  cap, 
which  had  lit  cross-wise  on  his  round 
head. 

"Look  at  Stanley,  how  funny  he  looks," 
cried  Libbie  Lee,  and  amid  the  boy's  antics 
they  all  got  in  with  a  laughing  scramble,  for 


happy  secrets  are  sure  to  get  into  the  air 
before  they're  told  and  stir  things  up. 
Grander  said  she  thought  her  hat  was  about 
as  tipsy  as  Stanley's  cap,  she  had  put  it  on 
in  such  a  hurry,  and  the  old  minister  pro- 
tested that  he  was  being  kidnapped ! 

"Between  my  good  wife,  who  has  always 
had  her  own  way  with  me,  and  this  Uncle 
Mary"  (he  loved  to  call  her  so,  while  she 
was  getting  to  like  the  lurking  fun  in  it) 
"and  these  two  little  dominating  rascals,  I 
am  getting  so  I  dare  not  call  my  soul  my 
own!"  And  he  gave  Stanley,  the  last  one 
to  get  in  the  machine,  a  mischievous  push, 
then  climbed  in  beside  the  chauffeur  who 
was  in  smiling  accord  with  his  passengers. 

What  chauffeur  could  retain  his  city  mask 
under  the  influence  of  spring  in  these  smil- 
ing hills  ? 

When  they  drove  up  and  stopped  at  the 
church  door,  the  minister  and  his  wife 
began  to  realize  that  some  plot  was,  indeed, 
on  hand.  Mary  had  the  church  key,  for 
Sam  Oldham  was  sexton,  with  the  key  hers 


Finding  New  Paths  187 

at  will,  and  they  all  walked  through  the 
quiet  old  meeting  house  with  a  quick  sense 
of  awe — except  Stanley  who  couldn't  re- 
frain from  pulling  at  Libbie  Lee's  curls 
just  to  keep  his  spirit  within  bounds. 

Mary  was  leading  and  the  small  proces- 
sion went  quickly  up  the  aisle  to  the  little 
room  in  the  rear.  Here  Mary  paused  an 
instant  till  all  came  up,  then  threw  open  the 
door  and  cried  with  a  flourish,  "Behold!" 
Her  cheeks  were  pink  and  her  eyes  spark- 
ling like  a  young  girl's. 

Before  the  old  pastor  and  his  wife  was  a 
complete  transformation.  The  plain,  even 
dreary  room  where  children  had  gathered 
for  generations  at  the  church,  had  been  made 
a  thing  of  beauty.  The  walls  were  a 
heavenly  blue,  with  a  kindergarten  base,  of 
flying  birds  and  all  the  animals  that  went 
into  the  ark!  There  were  pictures  on  the 
walls — beautiful  copies  of  Biblical  pictures 
by  the  great  masters,  pretty  curtains  were 
at  the  windows;  the  floor  was  stained  and 
a  soft  rug  put  down  in  the  center;  then  a 


188  Uncle  Mary 

long,  big  table  held  chief  place  with  cunning 
little  red  chairs  all  around  it. 

The  old  people  were  speechless  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  the  long-serving  pastor  mur- 
mured, "I  am  almost  ready  to  say,  *Now 
lettest  Thou  Thy  servant  depart' — " 

"No,  no,"  cried  Mary,  "we  never  want 
anybody  but  you!" 

"Mary,"  he  said,  "you  do  not  know,  child, 
how  I  have  longed  that  we  might  keep  pace 
with  the  times  in  the  Lord's  work  here. 
But  we  have  so  little  money,  and  I  am  too 
old,  and  too  rheumatic!" 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  his  eyes  and 
Mary's  both  suspiciously  bright,  as  though 
tears  might  be  just  on  the  threshold,  then 
he  added  smiling,  "But  I'm  going  to  perk 
up,  Mary!  I've  just  got  to  live  up  to  these 
new-fangled  things!" 

The  children  had  Grander  by  either  hand 
and  were  showing  her  everything  while 
Mr.  Stillwell  and  Mary  had  stopped  to 
talk. 

"How  did  you  do  it  without  the  town's 


Finding  New  Paths  189 

finding  out*?"  lie  asked  quizzically,  at 
last. 

"You  may  ask  that,"  returned  Mary 
heartily;  "but  you  know  I  took  some  lessons 
in  stealthiness  when  Elizabeth  Lee  came.  I 
had  her  a  whole  twenty-four  hours  without 
anybody's  finding  it  out — not  even  the  milk 
boy!" 

"You  don't  mean  it,  Mary!"  he  cried, 
shaking  with  laughter.  "But  how  did  you 
accomplished  this — a  whole  week's  coup 
d'etat?" 

Mary  laughed  happily  with  him.  "Why, 
I  bought  everything  in  Barringer  and  had 
it  sent  to  the  house.  Then  Sam  Oldham, 
Stafford  and  myself  carried  things  to  the 
church  after  ten  at  night  and  worked  there 
till  twelve.  Of  course  we  put  up  the  shades 
at  the  windows  the  first  thing,  and  being  at 
the  back,  with  our  one  window  at  the  side 
hidden  by  that  nice  big  maple,  just  in  full 
leaf  for  the  purpose,  there  was  little  chance 
of  being  seen.  The  only  thing  I  did  openly 
and  above  board,  was  the  cleaning  of  the 


190  Uncle  Mary 

walls  and  the  floor,  then  calsomining  the 
walls.  People  saw  the  workmen  going  in 
for  that,  but  it  did  not  enlist  much  interest. 
I  have  heard  that  Sophie  Stoneham  said  she 
thought  I  might  do  that  much  if  I  was  go- 
ing to  impose  on  the  children  by  trying  to 
teach  them,  when  all  I  knew  how  to  do  was 
to  sew  and  scold!" 

Mary's  mouth  set  a  little  at  this,  but  one 
glance  around  the  room  and  she  was  smiling 
again.  "You  see  it  did  not  take  long  to 
put  the  things  in  place  and  Sam  Oldham, 
who  goes  and  comes  here  without  anybody 
making  comment,  stained  and  varnished 
the  floor  for  me.  Everything  was  ready, 
you  see,  by  Friday,  and  we  set  things 
in  place  last  night,  and  hung  the  pic- 
tures." 

"But  the  whole  street  is  wondering  by 
this  time  what  we  are  all  doing  here,"  Mary 
added  laughingly,  "and  I  think  we  had 
better  not  linger." 

So  she  gathered  up  her  little  party,  and 
was  none  too  soon  about  it,  for  Sophie 


Finding  New  Paths  191 

Stoneham  met  them  at  the  door,  somewhat 
out  of  breath. 

"Well,"  she  wheezed,  "have  you  been  hav- 
ing services  all  to  yourselves?  Some  folks 
are  getting  to  be  mighty  exclusive,  it  seems." 

They  were  all  guilty,  of  course,  but  Mr. 
Stillwell  met  her  with  pretty  good  grace, 
considering. 

"So  it  does,  Sophie.  Mary  had  some 
cleaning  done  in  the  children's  room  and 
we  came  to  see  that  everything  was  all  right 
for  to-morrow.  I'm  going  to  walk  along 
with  you,  Sophie,"  he  added;  "there's  some- 
thing I  want  you  to  do  for  me,"  and  he 
smiled  his  "wheedling  smile, '*  as  he  called 
it  to  his  wife,  when  they  laughed  together 
over  things,  sometimes — which  they  had 
found  was  the  only  way  to  keep  ministerial 
courage  up  when  humanity  proved  too  much 
for  them. 

"You  know  if  a  fellow  could  just  stop 
untangling  human  threads  for  a  while,  and 
sell  soap  and  starch,  or  anything  that  can't 
snap  and  bite,  or  weep,  why  a  minister  could 


192  Uncle  Mary 

get  along  better,"  was  what  he  told  his  wife 
many  a  time. 

By  this  we  know  that  the  vacation  idea 
had  not  penetrated  Sunfield.  At  any  rate, 
if  it  had,  the  old  minister  had  not  become 
modernized  enough  to  take  advantage  of  it. 

But  he  knew  well  how  to  use  that  "  whee- 
dling smile,"  and  Sophie  Stoneham  was  dis- 
concerted when  it  was  turned  upon  her  and 
the  minister  proposed  to  "walk  along  with 
her."  In  fact  she  had  no  objective  except 
the  church,  to  see  what  Mary  and  "that 
child"  and  the  minister's  folks  were  doing 
there  out  of  hours.  But  she  turned  her 
heavy  weight  about,  and  walked  along  with 
Mr.  Stillwell  while  she  listened  to  a  plea 
for  help  which  proved  to  be  quite  in  her  line. 
He  wanted  her  to  go  to  see  Miranda  Evans, 
tell  her  Mary  had  cleaned  up  a  little  in  the 
Sunday  School  room  of  the  children,  and 
ask  her  if  she  wouldn't  come  to  Sunday 
School  next  day. 

The  minister  knew  Miranda  would  not 
come,  but  he  thought  it  would  be  a  safe 


Finding  New  Paths  193 

place  for  Sophie  to  do  her  speculating  as  to 
what  they  had  gone  to  the  church  for ! 

Well,  ministers  have  to  be  a  little  crafty 
sometimes,  dealing  with  humanity  seven 
days  in  a  week! 

The  delight  of  the  minister  and  his  wife, 
of  Stanley  and  Libbie  Lee  over  the  pretty 
room  with  its  up-to-date  Sunday  School 
equipment,  was  as  nothing  compared  to  that 
of  the  children  when  they  gathered  there 
next  day.  Some  stopped  spell-bound  at  the 
door,  others  ran  here  and  there  exclaiming 
over  everything;  but  all,  in  the  end, 
gathered  about  Mary,  some  clinging  to  her 
and  crying,  "You  are  the  dearest  Uncle 
jMary  in  the  world,  to  fix  this  all  up  for  us 
so  beautifully!"  and  the  rest  echoing  it  in 
their  shining  eyes.  As  for  Mary,  herself, 
she  never  looked  happier  or  prettier,  even 
in  her  early  girlhood  than  she  did  that  day ! 

There  was  really  no  time  for  a  lesson. 
The  hour  was  entirely  filled  looking  at  the 
things  and  finding  out  what  they  were  for. 
Stanley  helped  greatly  in  this, — in  fact  he 


194  Uncle  Mary 

appeared  very  much  as  if  he  were  the  author 
and  the  finisher  of  the  whole  thing !  Libbie 
Lee  followed  delightedly  around  after  him, 
saying,  "Yes,"  and  "See  this,"  as  often  as 
she  could  get  a  word  in.  But  at  last  Mary 
rounded  them  all  up,  seated  them  in  the 
little  chairs  and  asked  what  they  wanted  to 
sing. 

One  bright-eyed,  old-fashioned  little  girl 
cried,  "Praise  God  from  Whom  all  Bless- 
ings Flow." 

Mary  laughed  within,  for  nothing  could 
have  better  shown  how  far  behind  the  times 
they  were,  but  at  the  same  time  nothing 
could  ever  better  express  reverential  praise 
from  human  lips,  and  the  sound  of  little 
voices  in  the  solemn  old  hymn,  while  her 
own  heart  welled  with  praise  and  thanks- 
giving, made  her  suddenly  an  almost  teary 
Uncle  Mary. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  STRANGE  RETURN 

IT  was  one  morning  in  May  that  Mary 
was  carrying  out  a  promise  to  Stanley  and 
Elizabeth  Lee  to  go  into  the  woods  a  little 
and  get  some  mountain  laurel,  which  was 
just  at  the  height  of  its  spring  bloom  and 
beauty.  It  was  a  suddenly  hot  morning, 
when  the  sun  seemed  really  bent  on  burn- 
ing everything  up  that  came  beneath  its 
rays — in  a  fashion  that  belongs  to  the 
very  energetic  ways  of  a  New  England 
spring. 

The  car  was  at  the  door,  and  Elizabeth 
Lee,  a  "really"  little  summer  girl  with  low 
socks  and  slippers,  pink  gingham  and  broad- 
brimmed  hat,  was  already  on  the  pavement 
throwing  kisses  back  at  Auntie  Alice,  who 
had  decided  she  would  rather  stay  in  the 

195 


196  Uncle  Mary 


cool  house  than  ride  anywhere.  Mary  came 
from  the  house  (herself  a  picture  of  pretty 
summer  comfort),  the  car  whirred  off  and 
they  were  soon  waiting  for  Stanley  at  the 
parsonage  door. 

Almost  instantly  he  came  bounding  out, 
too — and  what  was  the  funny  thing  he  had 
on  his  head  ? 

Elizabeth  Lee  laughed  aloud,  as  soon  as 
she  saw  him,  and  Mary  joined  her  as  she 
asked, 

"What  is  that  thing  you  have  on  your 
head,  Stanley  Stillwell?" 

" That's  my  African  helmet.  This  sun 
this  morning  makes  me  think  of  Africa,  and 
I  just  wore  my  helmet.  You  see  you  can't 
go  out,  even  in  the  early  morning  there, 
without  a  helmet;  and  a  little  later,  when 
the  sun  drops,  hot  as  an  oven,  right  down 
on  your  head,  you  can't  go  at  all." 

"I  wouldn't  stay  in  such  a  bad  place  as 
that,"  said  Elizabeth  Lee  decidedly. 

Stanley  was  quick  to  respond  to  this: 
"Humph!  I  guess  if  you  were  as  splendid 


A  Strange  Return  197 

a  man  as  my  father,  and  doing  as  much 
good  as  he  is,  you  would  stay  there  all 
right!" 

Which  made  Elizabeth  Lee  very  meek  in- 
deed. She  didn't  understand,  of  course, 
but  she  was  aware  that  her  chief  was  "call- 
ing her  down,"  which  is  always  enough  for 
womankind. 

Mary  laughed  at  the  two,  behind  her 
handkerchief,  then  her  thought  shot  back  to 
little  Jimmie  Stillwell — and  Elwood.  They 
had  always  been  together.  What  sacrifices 
Jimmie  was  making,  and  Elwood — Why  did 
remembrance  of  Elwood  so  constantly  pur- 
sue her,  was  the  impatient  protest. 

But  Elizabeth  Lee  was  laughing  again  at 
Stanley  and  his  funny  hat — and  then  in  a 
twinkling  her  broad  hat  was  off  and  Stanley 
had  put  his  big,  awkward  thing  on  her  own 
curly  head. 

"O-o-o,"  the  little  girl  giggled  and  wrig- 
gled, "it  smothers  me!" 

So  it  was  off  again  in  a  twinkling,  while 
Stanley  put  it  back  on  his  own  head,  saying, 


198  Uncle  Mary 

"I  wouldn't  let  you  have  it,  anyway.  But 
I  tell  you,  you  will  want  it  when  you  get  out 
in  the  sun  hunting  laurel!" 

"I  suspect  she  will,  Stanley,"  smiled 
Mary.  "It  is  hot,  and  I  think  I  am  going 
to  drive  to  a  spot  which  is  close  to  the  road, 
where  I  know  there  is  a  lot  of  laurel,  and 
let  you  two  go  and  get  it  for  yourselves  while 
I  study  my  books." 

She  spoke  to  the  chauffeur,  telling  him  to 
go  through  a  little  cross-road  that  ran  back 
of  their  own  place.  There  was  nice  shade 
there,  she  remembered,  where  they  could 
park  the  machine  and  be  in  sight  of  the 
children  all  the  while. 

So,  out  the  two  tumbled  when  the  machine 
halted,  and  Mary  told  them  just  where  to  go. 
Then  she  smilingly  watched  the  bobbing  odd 
tan  helmet  with  its  cool  green  lining,  which 
set  out  from  the  boy's  head,  making  him 
amusingly  top-heavy.  But  it  really  was 
very  light  and  he  plunged  here  and  there 
easily,  with  Libbie  Lee  trudging  breathlessly 
after,  till  Mary  called  out  to  them : 


A  Strange  Return  199 

"Not  so  fast,  Stanley.  Elizabeth  Lee 
cannot  keep  up." 

She  thought  once  of  sending  the  chauffeur 
after  them,  just  to  keep  watch,  but  she  had 
promised  they  might  gather  the  laurel  all  by 
themselves;  so,  as  no  harm  could  come  to 
them,  close  at  hand  as  they  were,  she  settled 
back  to  her  reading  while  the  chauffeur  did 
the  same.  He  liked  a  book  and  always  had 
one  in  his  pocket. 

Perhaps  half  or  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
had  passed  and  in  her  reading  Mary  con- 
stantly caught  the  children's  voices,  as  she 
thought,  but  there  came  a  sudden  realization 
that  she  was  not  hearing  them — had  not  been 
for  a  vague  length  of  time  that  made  her  in- 
stantly anxious. 

She  spoke  hurriedly  to  the  chauffeur;  "I 
think  I  will  go  down  and  see  about  the 
children."  He  replied  promptly;  " Would 
you  not  like  me  to  go?"  as  he  sprang  from 
his  seat  to  open  the  door. 

"No,"  said  Mary,  who  was  already  step- 
ping out,  "I  think  I  will  like  to  go,  myself." 


200  Uncle  Mary 


So  she  forgot  the  sun  in  the  little  flutter 
of  anxiety  that  had  come  to  her,  and  walked 
briskly  down  the  slope  to  where  tall  maples, 
canopied  and  moss-covered  bowlders  and 
mountain  laurel  were  intertwined.  Her  ear 
keenly  reached  out  as  she  went,  for  sound  of 
the  children's  trebles,  but  nothing  came 
back  to  her,  and  her  anxiety  grew  as  she 
came  upon  a  pile  of  gathered  laurel;  then 
suddenly  the  low  voice  of  a  man  sounded 
from  beyond  a  big  bowlder  in  front  of  her 
and  Libbie  Lee's  childish  laugh  broke  over 
the  stillness.  A  tense  moment,  and  she 
rounded  the  bowlder  to  see  a  man  with  dark 
hat  drawn  over  his  eyes,  seated  upon  a  fal- 
len tree  trunk,  and  the  two  children  stand- 
ing beside  him  watching  intently  while  he 
whittled  something  into  shape. 

The  man  looked  quickly  up  and  the  two 
children  turned  startled  faces  at  Mary's 
rapid  step  and  advancing  figure. 

"  Stanley — Elizabeth  Lee,  what  do  you 
mean  by  staying  so  long  and  coming  so 
far?"  she  cried,  catching  each  of  the  chil- 


A  Strange  Return  201 

drcn  by  the  hand  and  hardly  giving  a  glance 
to  the  man. 

"Why, — Uncle  Mary,  he  is  making  us  a 
whistle — please  let  us  stay  till  it's  done," 
cried  Stanley,  pulling  back  in  unconscious 
protest,  for  they  had  really  neither  gone 
far  nor  stayed  long. 

Mary  turned  toward  the  man  involunta- 
rily, taking  in  with  one  sweeping  gaze  the 
frail  figure,  pallid  face,  and  emaciated 
fingers.  Her  hands  dropped  as  though 
struck  from  their  grasp. 

"Elwood!" 

The  word  came  almost  inaudibly,  at  last, 
as  the  man  met  her  startled  gaze  with  quiet, 
steady  eyes. 

For  a  full  minute  the  tenseness  had  held 
even  the  children.  Then  Mary  recovered 
herself  with  supreme  effort. 

"Stanley,"  she  said  with  quick  author- 
ity, "you  take  Elizabeth  Lee  around  beyond 
this  bowlder  to  where  you  have  piled  your 
laurel,  and  wait  there  till  I  come." 

When    the    children    were    gone    Mary 


202  Uncle  Mary 

turned  quickly  again  and  exclaimed:  "El- 
wood,  you  are  sick!" 

A  slow,  whimsical  smile  came  to  the  pal- 
lid face  and  he  said,  "No,  Mary,  I  am  al- 
most well!" 

Tears  rushed  to  Mary's  eyes,  but  she  beat 
them  back  as  she  said  brokenly:  "Come 
home  with  me."  And  the  anger  of  years 
fled  from  her  heart ! 

His  smile  had  faded  but  there  was 
warmth  in  the  somber  eyes  which  met 
hers. 

"I  have  not  come  here  to  bother  you," 
the  brother  said;  "I  only  wanted  to  have 
another  look — at  things." 

"But  you  must  come  home,"  Mary  cried, 
laying  a  hand  on  his  arm. 

"No,  Mary,  I  think  not."  Then  the 
whimsical  smile  came  again  and  he  began  to 
whittle  once  more:  "You  do  not  want  me, 
Mary." 

"But  I  do!"  cried  Mary  again.  "And, 
Elwood — Alice — Alice  is  a  cripple — she  will 
want  to  see  you!" 


"  '  BUT    YOU    MUST    COME    HOME,'    MARY    CRIED,    LAYING 
A    HAND   ON    HIS   ARM  " 


A  Strange  Return  203 

His  hands  paused  and  his  eyes  questioned 
with  instant  pain:  "How — when?" 

"Just  after  you  left,"  said  Mary,  hurry- 
ing over  the  words:  "She  fell  from  the  step- 
ladder — and  she  would  give  anything  to  see 
you." 

Elwood  looked  at  her  keenly:  "And  you 
have  had  to  do  everything?" 

"Oh — no,  Alice  has  helped  me,"  she  re- 
plied quickly. 

His  eyes  did  not  leave  her  face  and  he 
guessed,  quite  accurately,  how  much  Alice 
had  been  able  to  help. 

"Will  you  not  come  to  see  her,  Elwood?" 
pleaded  Mary  again. 

He  whittled  once  more,  and  with  a  few 
touches  the  whistle  was  done.  At  last  he 
spoke:  "Do  not  think  I  do  not  want  to 
come,"  he  said,  weakening  the  bonds  which 
for  years  had  held  him.  "But  I  must  not 
stay,"  he  ended  at  last  firmly. 

Mary  knew  as  well  as  though  he  had 
added  the  words  that  he  was  not  willing  to 
stay,  and  make  them — her — trouble. 


204  Uncle  Mary 

"We  will  go  then,"  she  said,  and  he  rose 
with  determined  vigor,  so  she  did  not  take 
his  arm  to  steady  him,  as  she  longed  to  do. 

They  went  around  the  bowlder,  and  not 
far  beyond  were  the  children  seated  on  the 
ground  beside  the  heap  of  flowering  laurel, 
waiting  in  a  sort  of  awed  expectancy. 

"Come,  Stanley  and  Elizabeth  Lee,"  said 
Mary  quickly,  "you  two  walk  on  ahead.  I 
will  send  Stafford  back  to  get  the  laurel." 

Both  children  looked  much  disappointed, 
because  they  had  expected  to  have  the  fun 
of  lugging  the  laurel  in  themselves. 

Elwood  read  their  disappointment,  but 
Mary  was  too  preoccupied  to  notice.  He 
smiled  at  them  and  said:  "Here  is  your 
whistle.  Blow  at  this  end,  boy. " 

And  the  two  ran  ahead,  the  gay  little  pink 
gingham  and  the  odd  African  helmet,  with 
joy's  equilibrium  fully  restored,  and  Eliz- 
abeth Lee  having,  of  course,  to  find  most 
of  her  delight  in  listening  to  Stanley's 
whistles. 

Mary  kept  her  thought  upon  Elwood,  ex- 


A  Strange  Return  205 

pecting  uncertain  steps,  but  he  determin- 
edly mounted  the  short,  steep  slope  and  in 
a  moment  they  were  upon  the  road  with  the 
car  before  them.  The  change  in  Mary's 
life  rushed  back  into  her  consciousness, 
but  she  simply  said:  "Our  car  is  waiting; 
we  can  soon  get  out  of  this  heat." 

She  did  not  see  the  quick  questioning  look 
that  came  into  Elwood's  eyes,  but  he  made 
no  remark,  accepting  a  seat  in  the  elegant 
limousine  at  last  without  the  least  change  of 
expression. 

"  Stafford,  this  is  my  brother,  Mr.  Hal- 
sey,"  Mary  said,  as  the  chaff eur  stepped 
down  to  open  the  door.  Both  men  bowed, 
and  without  pause  she  went  on:  " Stanley, 
you  and  Elizabeth  Lee  can  both  sit  with 
Stafford  this  time,"  and  motioned  to  El- 
wood  to  sit  in  the  back  with  her. 

Not  a  word  passed  between  them  on  the 
brief  ride,  while  Stanley  and  Libbie  Lee  de- 
lighted themselves  in  whistling  for  the 
chaff  eur's  benefit.  As  they  paused  at  the 
door  of  the  brown  cottage,  Mary  laid  a 


206  Uncle  Mary 


hand  on  Elwood's  arm  and  said:  "I  must 
speak  to  Alice  first.  Wait  where  you  are, 
children,"  she  called,  hurrying  in  the 
Jiouse.  The  news  was  soon  made  known  to 
Alice,  and  then,  in  upon  the  gentler  sister's 
tide  of  joy,  Mary  broke  with — "But — Alice, 
he  is  ill!  Don't  say  a  word,  though,"  and 
her  voice  struggled  for  steadiness  again. 
"I  will  go  and  bring  him  in." 

At  the  car,  once  more  she  directed :  "Staf- 
ford, take  Elizabeth  Lee  over  to  Mr.  Still- 
well's  with  Stanley,  let  her  stay  half  an 
hour,  and  then  bring  her  back  here." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

ELWOOD 

THE  meeting  between  Alice  and  Elwood 
had  all  the  reserve  which  belongs  to  New 
England  granite  hills  in  general  and  the 
Halsey  family  in  particular,  though  the  eyes 
of  both  sister  and  brother  told  their  story 
of  deep  emotion ;  joy  coming  out  in  the  high 
lights  and  pain  hiding  in  the  dark  depths. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken  while  their  lips  and 
arms  clung  for  a  brief  moment.  Mary  fled 
to  the  kitchen  the  instant  she  had  brought 
them  together,  and  with  trembling  lips  and 
swimming  eyes  flew  here  and  there  about  the 
task  of  getting  dinner.  ' '  Elwood  must  have 
something  to  eat  at  once,"  was  the  practical 
thought  which  steadied  her  more  and  more 
with  each  passing  minute ;  and  by  the  time 
she  heard  Libbie  Lee's  running  step  at  the 

207 


208  Uncle  Mary 

door,  she  had  just  finished  placing  the  simple 
meal  upon  the  table. 

Elwood  turned  toward  the  little  girl  when 
she  appeared,  her  sparkling  face  just  above 
a  big  armful  of  pink  blossoms  and  green 
leaves.  But  her  eyes  were  upon  Alice,  and 
running  forward  she  threw  the  riotous 
laurel  in  that  capacious  lap — with  it  almost 
depositing  herself. 

"I  got  it  for  you,"  she  cried;  " isn't  it 
so  pretty!" 

Elwood 's  eyes  kindled  as  she  stood  close 
to  him  in  her  lovely  childish  abandon. 

"Your  hat,  Elizabeth  Lee,"  said  Mary 
promptly. 

"Oh,  I  forgot,"  replied  the  child,  pulling 
off  the  hat  and  hanging  it  on  her  own  low 
hook. 

Alice  had  been  smiling  her  thanks  for  the 
laurel  offering,  but  somehow  she  could  not 
trust  herself  to  speak,  and  Mary  put  in 
again:  "Alice  cannot  eat  her  dinner  with 
all  that  pile  of  laurel  in  her  lap,"  with  a 
sort  of  brusque  pleasantry.  "Here,  Eliza- 


Elwood  209 

beth  Lee,  help  me  and  we  will  carry  it  out 
to  the  kitchen  and  just  pile  it  in  the  sink 
till  it  gets  a  good  wetting." 

And  the  two  went  out  carrying  the  pink 
beauties,  with  much  gayety  on  the  child's 
part,  and  dexterous  handling  on  Mary's  as 
she  put  it  in  the  sink  with  a  flowing  faucet. 

With  the  little  girl's  chatter  as  emotional 
foil  or  refuge,  the  three  whose  hearts  were 
so  full  effected  a  commonplace  meal  in  the 
outward  things.  But  Elwood  ate  little, 
while  he  scarcely  took  his  eyes  from  the 
child.  Sometimes  they  kindled  with  quick 
warmth  and  spontaneous  affection;  then 
they  brooded  or  questioned  with  somber  in- 
tensity. The  two  women  interpreted  with 
uncertain  gropings. 

When  they  left  the  table,  Elwood  took 
the  child  by  the  hand  and  drew  her  to  his 
knee,  asking  how  she  liked  the  whistle. 

As  Mary  cleared  the  table,  she  said  softly 
to  Alice,  "Stay  right  here;  I  don't  need  any 
help." 

But  Alice  turned  pleading  eyes  toward 


210  Uncle  Mary 

her,  with — "I  want  to  help!"  And  Mary 
gave  no  denial. 

They  closed  the  door  as  they  went  together 
into  the  kitchen,  and  Alice  exclaimed  in  the 
next  breath:  "What  does  it  mean,  Mary?" 

"I  don't  know.  Has  he  told  you  any- 
thing, or  asked  a  question?" 

"No,"  returned  Alice,  "not  one — only 
about  father's  death — quietly,  and  I  told 
him." 

"He  has  scarcely  had  a  chance  to  talk  to 
me,"  said  Mary.  Then  she  told  Alice  all 
the  details  of  the  meeting.  "I  remember 
now,"  she  added,  "that  Elizabeth  Lee  had 
her  hand  on  his  knee  when  I  found  them — 
that  burned  itself  into  my  consciousness,  for 
it  was  a  strange  man,  as  I  thought — not 
really  seeing  him  at  all  in  my  nervous 
anxiety  to  get  the  children  away  to  safety." 

"He  has  come  to  have  a  last  look  at  her," 
said  Alice,  suddenly  sobbing,  "for  he  can't 
live  long,  Mary." 

Mary  could  not  answer  for  several 
minutes,  then  she  said  with  instinctive 


Elwood  211 

honesty,  "I  think  he  wanted  to  see  us,  too. 
And  we  must  simply  wait  his  time  to  know 
more.  You  know  Elwood." 

"Yes,"  returned  Alice  staunchly,  "and 
a  finer  spirit  never  lived!" 

Mary  said  nothing,  but  loyalty  was  not 
entirely  lacking  in  her  own  heart. 

Meantime  Elwood  talked  with  the  little 
girl  and  held  her  undivided  interest.  She 
leaned  against  his  knee,  and  several  times 
he  made  a  motion  to  lift  her  to  his  lap,  but 
gently  put  an  arm  about  her  instead.  Once 
he  held  a  curl  and  looked  at  it  intently  as 
he  told  a  wonderful  story  about  a  rabbit. 

Then  Mary  came  back,  and  Alice  wheeled 
her  chair  to  the  sitting  room  again  with 
quick  grace.  Both  noted  that  Elwood 
labored  under  some  stress,  and  rising  he  said 
at  once, — "I  must  go  now — this  has  been — " 

But  he  had  over-estimated  his  strength, 
or  rather,  too  suddenly  appraised  it,  for  his 
face  went  pallid  as  death,  while  his  words 
faltered  and  failed. 

Mary  sprang  to  his  side  and  gently  put 


212  Uncle  Mary 


him  back  in  his  chair.  With  steady  hand 
she  held  him  in  place  and  cried  quickly  to 
Alice,  " Telephone  for  Stafford,"  and  to 
Libbie  Lee,  "Kun  out  in  the  yard!"  Both 
obeyed  as  if  under  military  orders. 

Then  she  reached  for  a  glass  with  water 
which  stood  upon  the  table  and  managed  to 
get  some  of  it  on  that  terrifyingly  white 
face. 

It  was  not  more  than  five  minutes  till 
Stafford  strode  in  the  door,  and  he  and 
Mary  lifted  the  wasted  figure  and  carried 
it  to  the  little  old  day-bed  where  he  had  slept 
as  a  boy. 

"Shall  I  get  a  doctor?"  asked  Stafford, 
respectfully. 

"We  will  wait  a  moment  and  see,"  re- 
turned Mary,  with  the  old  family  reserve 
strong  upon  her. 

A  moment  later  a  slight  warmth  slowly 
crept  into  the  face,  then  the  eyelids  fluttered 
wearily,  and  Mary  knew  that  consciousness 
was  returning. 

His  first  look  was  one  of  question  as  he 


Elwood  213 

saw  Mary  leaning  over  him;  then  under- 
standing dawned,  and  as  his  eyes  took  in 
the  familiar  aspects  of  the  small  room  which 
used  to  be  his,  he  closed  them  quickly  as 
though  he  could  not  bear  it. 

" Elwood,"  said  Mary  softly  a  little  later, 
" shall  I  not  send  for  a  doctor*?" 

He  did  not  answer,  but  slowly  reached  for 
an  inner  pocket,  and  Mary,  divining,  put 
her  hand  in  and  drew  out  a  bottle  of  tablets. 

"A  glass  of  water,  Stafford,"  she  said. 
It  was  quickly  brought  and  she  questioned, 
"One  or  two?" 

The  sick  man  put  up  one  finger,  so  she 
took  one  tablet  and  lifting  the  helpless  head, 
placed  the  medicine  between  his  lips,  but 
he  motioned  the  water  away. 

In  half  an  hour  the  tablet  had  done  good 
work  and  Elwood  turned  to  Mary  with  a 
struggling  smile:  "I  did  not  expect  to  be- 
have like  this." 

• 

"That  is  all  right,"  returned  Mary,  "but 
do  you  not  think  we  had  better  have  the 
doctor?" 


214  Uncle  Mary 

"No,"  returned  Elwood,  "I  understand 
my  condition  and  these  emergency  tablets 
are  all  that  is  necessary.  The  thing  slipped 
up  on  me  unaccountably  this  time,"  and  he 
looked  away  that  she  might  not  see  the  pain 
that  suddenly  shot  back  into  the  depths  of 
his  eyes  again. 

They  were  very  quiet  for  an  hour  more; 
then  Mary  brought  in  a  cup  of  broth,  and 
after  he  had  taken  it,  he  said:  "That  is 
good;  it  will  do  me  good — but  Mary,  there 
is  no  getting  around  it,  you  will  have  me  on 
your  hands  for  a  day  or  two." 

And  Mary  for  answer  just  stooped  over 
and  kissed  him!  Marvel  of  marvels  for  a 
jHalsey!  Then  she  busied  herself  about  a 
swaying  curtain,  to  turn  briskly  a  moment 
later  with  the  matter-of-fact  statement, 
"We  must  make  you  comfortable  in  bed 
now,"  and  at  once  left  the  room. 

She  had  thought  things  out  in  the  quiet 
hour  beside  his  bed,  "Elwood  had  no 
satchel.  Yes,  there  were  several  good  night 
shirts  of  father's  in  the  attic.  She  would 


Elwood  215 

make  the  little  bed  and  get  him  all  fixed  up 
as  soon  as  he  was  strong  enough."  So  she 
now  returned  promptly  with  the  necessary 
articles  and  laid  them  suggestively  on  the 
foot  of  the  bed.  Elwood  turned  away  after 
one  look,  for  he  knew  at  once  whence  came 
that  night  shirt.  With  Stafford's  help  he 
was  soon  carefully  prepared  and  made  com- 
fortable in  bed.  After  a  bit  of  rest  he 
turned  to  Mary  and  asked,  "  Where  is  the 
little  girl — Libbie  Lee,  I  believe  you  call 
her?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mary,  looking  keenly  at  him 
and  forgetting  her  insistence  upon  "Eliza- 
beth Lee."  "Do  you  want  to  see  her?"  she 
asked. 

"Yes,"  he  nodded. 

So  Mary  brought  the  little  girl  in,  and  she 
went  straight  to  the  bed,  laying  a  small 
round  hand  on  his  arm  in  her  little-mother 
way.  "You  are  sick,"  she  announced. 

"Oh,  just  a  little  out-of-sorts,"  he  smiled 
back  at  her.  And  Mary  left  them  to  dis- 
miss Stafford  and  look  after  things  for  the 


216  Uncle  Mary 


evening  meal.  Alice  followed  her  from 
the  living  room  to  the  kitchen  with  the 
quick  question,  "Has  he  said  anything 
yet?" 

"No,"  replied  Mary  shortly,  "and  he  isn't 
going  to." 

Alice  was  silent  a  moment,  then  she  said 
confidently,  "For  some  reason  he  does  not 
want  us  to  know  he  has  any  connection  with 
her." 

Mary  said  nothing.  Things  were  much 
too  complicated  for  speech  just  then,  so  far 
as  she  was  concerned. 

A  little  later,  as  the  two  sisters  sat  in  the 
living  room,  Mary,  in  a  glance  through  the 
open  door,  saw  Elwood  take  the  little  girl's 
face  between  his  hands  and  look  searchingly 
into  it.  Not  a  move  of  objection  did  the 
child  make,  and  Mary,  watching  involunta- 
rily, saw  the  intent  look  soften,  then  heard 
the  child  laugh  as  she  was  released. 

During  the  afternoon  the  patient  was 
given  tablets  regularly  at  his  direction ;  the 
evening  meal  was  over  at  last,  and  Libbie 


Elwood  217 

Lee — Alice  as  well — tucked  safely  in  bed, 
though  it  was  early.  Then  Mary  went  in 
to  sit  quietly  with  Elwood  again. 

He  turned  to  her  in  painful  questioning 
almost  at  once:  "Mary,  what  child  is  that 
who  calls  you  'Uncle  Mary'?" 

There  was  a  quick  gasp  for  breath  im- 
mediately following. 

"Elwood,  you  had  better  not  talk  any 
more  to-night, "  said  Mary,  decidedly. 
"You  need  sleep." 

With  a  determined  gathering  of  his 
forces,  he  returned,  "But,  I  must  talk.  I 
could  almost  claim  that  child  for  my  own! 
She  is  so  like  my  own  might  have  been  at 
her  age — like  my  baby's  mother,"  he  whis- 
pered. "That  is  what  made  me  flunk  so 
completely  to-day,"  he  added,  at  last, 
while  his  whimsical  smile  crept  faintly  in 
again. 

"Yours?"  returned  Mary  questioningly. 

"Yes,  I  had  a  wife  and  child  in  New  York 
— but  the  war — "  he  halted  a  moment  for 
breath  again,  then  began  determinedly: 


218  Uncle  Mary 

"Yes,  mine.  When  I  came  back  from  over- 
seas, I  went  to  the  house  where  my  wife  had 
taken  a  room  for  herself  and  baby  as  I  was 
leaving — a  room  where  she  could  do  illus- 
trating— and  was  so  sure  she  could  earn 
enough  to  keep  them  until  my  pay  began  to 
come  in.  You  see  she  was  southern,  and 
had  been  brought  up  on  war-loyalty — her 
ancestors  having  drained  themselves  in  the 
civil  war,  never  considering  for  a  moment 
what  it  cost.  So  she  wanted  me  to  enlist 
the  moment  we  declared  war  in  the  great 
world-conflict.  Of  course  I  wanted  to  my- 
self, but  I  thought  for  the  beginning  it  was 
better  for  the  young  fellows  who  had  no 
families,  to  go.  But  Florence  would  not 
hear  to  it — she  knew  she  could  take  care  of 
herself  and  the  baby — who  was  a  year  and 
a  half  old — for  she  had  taken  care  of  her- 
self before  we  were  married,  and  baby 
wouldn't  make  it  a  bit  harder — only  easier, 
she  declared.  So,  I  was  among  the  first  to 
go,  and  cheerful  letters  came  out  to  me  in 
the  trenches — and  in  the  hospitals — as  often 


Elwood  219 

as  they  could  find  me,  till  about  a  month 
'  before  the  armistice  was  signed.  Then,  they 
stopped — and  I  never  heard  again. " 

He  had  to  rest  here,  his  breath  coming 
short  again,  but  when  Mary  tried  to  per- 
suade him  to  wait  before  talking  more,  he 
raised  a  protesting  hand. 

"I  got  back  as  quickly  as  I  could  after  a 
round  of  hospital  experience,  but  it  was  a 
year  later,  and  then  I  searched  till  I  found 
that  my  wife  had  died  at  a  hospital  here 
during  the  first  influenza  epidemic,  but  I 
could  not  learn  a  thing  about  the  baby.  Two 
obscure  young  people  haven't  many  friends 
in  New  York,  and  the  city  was  panic- 
stricken  with  that  first  terrible  onslaught  of 
influenza,  while  Florence  had  only  two  old 
aunts  as  relatives,  left  in  South  Carolina. 
They  had  not  been  notified  of  her  death,  and 
were  distressed  at  her  long  silence ;  so  there 
was  nothing  to  find  out  in  that  direction. 
After  months  of  search  I  found  the  land- 
lady of  the  house  where  she  and  the  baby 
had  been,  but  this  woman  could  only  tell  me 


220  Uncle  Mary 

that  the  baby  was  sick,  also,  when  the  mother 
died  and  the  child  probably  died,  too.  I 
asked  about  the  trunk  and  she  said  it  was 
left  in  the  house  when  she  moved  away,  as 
nobody  claimed  it.  The  hospital  authorities 
also  told  me  they  felt  sure  the  baby  died,  if 
it  had  been  brought  there,  though  they  ad- 
mitted they  had  no  record  of  it.  But  it  was 
such  a  time  of  stress  and  confusion  that 
they  thought  the  baby  had  probably  been 
buried  with  the  mother  and  no  record  made 
of  it.  Of  course  there  was  no  money  that 
anybody  knew  about,  and  no  one  to  look 
after  things,  so — "  and  his  voice  sank 
to  a  whisper,  "I  don't  even  know  where 
she  is  buried — at  least  which  is  her 
grave." 

"Now,  Elwood,  you  must  rest  a  while/' 
said  Mary  with  real  authority,  adding  softly 
after  a  moment:  "You  know  her  spirit 
wasn't  buried,  Elwood,  nothing  could  touch 
that!" 

"Such  a  wonderful  spirit  she  had,  too," 
he  whispered. 


Elwood  221 

Mary  passed  her  hand  gently,  again  and 
again,  over  his  forehead  while  he  rested. 
Then  he  began  once  more:  "I  finally  gave 
up,  as  there  seemed  absolutely  nothing 
further  that  I  could  do;  and,  disheartened, 
with  a  wound  which 'had  put  the  left  lung 
pretty  much  out  of  commission,  and  seri- 
ously injured  the  heart,  it  did  not  seem 
worth  while  to  try  even  to  live  for  a  time. 
But  New  England  blood  is  not  the  sort  that 
usually  gives  up — though  it  can  be  terribly 
stubborn  at  times,"  and  they  smiled  faintly 
in  mutual  understanding. 

"I  went  to  a  soldiers'  hospital  in  New 
York  then,  and  finally  fell  into  story-writing 
— which  I  had  done  before  as  a  side-line 
under  an  assumed  name — and  which  served 
me  a  good  turn.  I  remained  there,  for  it 
seemed  best,  till  I  ventured  to  come  here — 
just  to  see  the  old  place.  I  did  not  intend 
to  bother  you.  I  came  over  in  a  taxi,  and 
had  them  let  me  out  in  the  old  laurel  lot; 
I  knew  it  must  be  in  full  bloom. 

"That  is  all — you  know  what  is  to  be,  and 


222  Uncle  Mary 


of  course  the  hospital  is  the  place  for  me," 
he  ended. 

Mary  would  not  argue  the  last  statement 
with  him  then,  and  she  knew  no  words  of 
response  for  such  a  tragic  story  as  his,  so 
she  only  repeated  gently  at  last: 

"Now,  you  must  sleep.  Shall  there  be 
another  tablet?" 

1  'No,"  he  returned,  "you  can  put  them 
where  I  can  get  them.  I  am  accustomed  to 
looking  out  for  myself,  largely."  And  the 
relaxed  look  upon  his  face  said  plainly  as 
words  to  her,  "I  am  better  for  telling  you." 
But  she  had  not  answered  his  question  about 
the  child,  not  even  after  hearing  his  story, 
and  his  wild  hope  died  down.  As  to 
what  unexpected,  marvelous  thing  had 
come  into  Mary's  life  he  had  no  right  to 
probe. 

For  hours  that  night  Mary  lay  in  her  bed 
not  sleeping.  Of  course  she  listened  for 
sounds  from  her  brother's  room,  but  her 
mind  was  too  full  of  thought  for  sleep  under 
any  circumstances. 


Elwood  223 

Whose  child,  indeed,  was  Libbie  Lee? 
Though  he  did  not  know,  still  it  might  be 
Elwood 's — for  whose  else  could  it  be?  But 
how  had  it  come  to  her  ?  Perhaps  someone 
who  knew  Elwood  did,  after  all,  get  the 
child  at  once  from  the  hospital  after  the 
mother's  death,  and  knowing  of  El  wood's 
past,  had  sent  the  child  to  her  to  rear.  Of 
course  it  was  some  one  with  plenty  of  money 
— and  Elwood 's  story  did  not  indicate 
wealthy  friends!  But  many  people  had 
money  after  the  war  who  did  not  have  it 
before!  If  it  were  not  Elwood 's,  why 
should  it  have  been  sent  to  her?  (Her 
whimsical  claim  of  fancy  that  it  was  hers 
and  "her  husband's"  did  not  even  give  an 
echo  in  this  time  of  earnest  probing!)  Oh, 
it  was  a  heart-breaking  tangle  and  mystery ! 
All  she  could  see  now  was  that  she  should 
have  been  straightforward  in  the  beginning 
— insisting  on  knowing  whose  child  it  was, 
and  who  had  sent  it.  Instead,  she  had  been 
so  afraid  of  losing  it  that  she  would  not 
question  anything — and  bluffed  herself  and 


224  Uncle  Mary 

the  town  with  a  bravado  that,  at  the  mo- 
ment, seemed  amazing!  But — how  she  did 
love  the  child!  For  her  own  part  she  did 
not  care  where  it  came  from,  and  she  simply 
could  not  run  any  risk  of  losing  it  now! 
Over  and  over  she  pursued  desires,  facts  and 
conclusions  in  a  ceaseless  round,  until 
finally  an  unselfish  and  definite  determina- 
tion sent  her  spirit  into  the  restfulness  of 
sleep.  The  decision  was  this :  she  would  at 
once  find  out  all  she  could  about  the  child, 
whatever  the  consequences!  If  it  was  El- 
wood's  child,  it  was  due  him  to  know  it — 
and  there  was  no  time  to  lose. 

Next  morning  the  determination  was  un- 
shaken, and  finding  Elwood  fairly  comfort- 
able after  the  night,  she  said  to  Alice  in  the 
kitchen  while  Libbie  Lee  cared  for  the  pa- 
tient, "  Alice,  I  am  going  to  find  out  all  I  can 
about  the  child  as  promptly  as  possible.'* 
Then  she  told  the  details  of  her  conversation 
with  Elwood,  and  all  the  reasoning  that  had 
brought  her  to  this  decision. 

Breakfast  was  barely  over  when  a  tele- 


Elwood  225 

gram  went  speeding  to  the  bank  in  New 
York: 

"Must  know  at  once  any  facts  about  child,  Elizabeth 
Lee  Starling,  sent  to  me  some  months  ago.  Prompt- 
ness imperative." 

In  two  hours  the  reply  was  in  her  hands : 

"We  have  no  facts.  Have  wired  party  who  may 
have,  and  hope  you  may  soon  receive  some  satis- 
factory word." 

Mary  and  Alice  had  agreed  that  nothing 
about  this  must  be  said  to  Elwood,  for  it 
would  be  cruel  to  raise  so  great  a  hope  for 
him  when  there  was  uncertain  promise  of 
fulfillment.  Nothing  more  was  said  to  him 
either  about  his  confidence  to  Mary,  and  he, 
in  turn,  did  not  repeat  his  question,  "  Whose 
child  is  that?"  He  accepted  the  " Uncle 
Mary,"  also,  without  further  remark. 
Family  reticence  stood  them  all  in  good 
stead  during  the  two  days  that  followed. 

At  dark  that  evening  came  another  wire 
which  said  tersely: 

"Party  starting  immediately  from  Oklahoma  with 
all  information  available.    Will  go  direct  to  you." 
(Signed  again  by  the  bank.) 


226  Uncle  Mary 

This,  of  course,  meant  that  there  must  be 
continued  suspense,  and  it  was  still  best 
that  there  should  be  no  discussion. 

Elwood  seemed  to  delight  in  the  child, 
and  she  liked  nothing  better  than  being 
little  nurse  to  him;  or  hearing  him  in  his 
low,  relaxed  voice,  tell  some  pretty  story 
to  her.  He  spoke  no  more  of  going,  and  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  day  following  his 
arrival,  as  Mary  and  Alice  started  out  to 
"do"  the  dinner  dishes,  he  smiled  at  them 
and  said,  "Now,  Libbie  Lee  and  I  are  going 
to  tell  secrets,  and  please  don't  anybody 
come  here,  or  in  the  sitting-room,  until  she 
lets  you  know  that  we  are  all  through/' 

"Certainly,"  laughed  Mary  and  Alice,  as 
they  left  to  speculate  over  what  he  might 
mean. 

When  they  were  gone  he  turned  to  the 
little  girl  and  said,  "I  want  you  to  help  me 
about  something.  Will  you  do  if?" 

"Oh,  I'd  love  to!  I  so  love  to  help! 
Uncle  Mary  lets  me,  sometimes!" 

He  smiled  tenderly  upon  her,  and  went 


Elwood  227 

on:  "Well,  what  I  want  you  to  do  is  this: 
go  to  the  secretary  in  there — "  and  he 
pointed  to  the  sitting  room  beyond. 

"That  great  tall  thing,"  agreed  Libbie 
Lee,  excitedly. 

"Yes,"  he  returned;  "and  you  see  that 
little  brass  knob  on  the  door?" 

"Yes,"  she  agreed  again,  awe  creeping 
into  her  voice. 

"That's  good,"  he  said;  "now  I  want  you 
to  climb  up  in  a  chair  so  that  you  can  reach 
that  knob,  and  then  turn  it  and  open  the 
door." 

"Oh,  but  Uncle  Mary  won't  let  me — she 
won't  let  me  touch  that !  And  Auntie  Alice 
told  me  long  time  ago,  when  I  first  came 
that  it  holds  Uncle  Mary's  chains,  and  then 
I  didn't  want  to  touch  it!" 

"I  see,"  returned  her  listener,  adding 
under  his  breath,  "I  suspect  so." 

Quickly  recovering  himself,  he  smiled 
again  re-assuringly  at  the  child,  and  said, 
"That  was  just  right;  but  I,  too,  have  some 
things  in  the  old  secretary,  and  I  know  all 


228  Uncle  Mary 


about  the  chains  Auntie  Alice  was  talking 
about.  She  was  just  making  fun  when  she 
said  *  chains';  she  really  meant  old  papers 
that  are  in  the  secretary,  which  make  Uncle 
Mary,  as  you  call  her,  a  lot  of  trouble.  Now 
I  want  to  get  them  out,  for  they  are  my 
chains  as  well  as  hers,  and  I  am  going  to  fix 
them  so  they  won't  ever  make  her  any 
more  trouble.  Don't  you  want  to  help  me 
doit?" 

The  little  girl  looked  doubtful — and  how 
Elwood  wished  he  might  rise  and  get  the 
papers  himself!  But  he  knew  the  least  at- 
tempt to  walk  might  be  fatal,  now.  The 
morning  had  not  brought  the  renewed  vigor 
he  expected — and  his  time  might  be  short. 
So  he  turned  to  Libbie  Lee  again  with  an 
urgent  smile. 

"I  can  watch  you  every  minute,  you  see," 
putting  her  little  face  down  beside  his.  And 
she  looked  with  him  to  the  sitting-room, 
then  brightened  decidedly  as  she  raised  her 
head  and  turned  to  him  once  more.  So  he 
urged  again:  "There's  a  little  tin  box  that 


Elwood  229 

you  will  see  just  as  soon  as  you  open  the 
door, — and  that  is  what  I  want  you  to  bring 
to  me." 

"Are  you  sure  Uncle  Mary  won't  care?" 

"It  will  make  her  very  happy!  But  you 
must  remember  that  it  is  just  a  secret  that 
you  and  I — "  then  he  stopped  a  moment, 
going  on  again  with,  "which  you  must  keep 
for  me  till  Uncle  Mary  finds  it  out  for  her- 
self. Can  you  keep  a  secret?" 

"I  love  to  keep  a  secret!  I  never  told 
Uncle  Mary  what  Auntie  Alice  told  me 
about  the  'chains,'  because  Auntie  Alice 
said  it  was  to  be  a  secret  for  her  and 
me." 

"All  right,"  he  said,  "you  are  just  the 
little  girl  for  me,  and  you  and  I  are  going 
to  have  a  secret  while  we  do  a  beautiful 
thing  for  Uncle  "Mary!" 

So  the  child  tiptoed  into  the  living  room, 
pushed  a  chair  up  to  the  awesome  old  sec- 
retary— looking  back  at  Elwood  every  other 
moment,  till  the  knob  was  turned,  just  as 
he  told  her;  and  then,  as  the  door  swung 


230  Uncle  Mary 

round,  there,  sure  enough,  lay  the  tin  box! 
She  had  it  in  a  moment,  and  scrambling 
down,  ran  quickly  to  the  bedside  again. 

Elwood  patted  her  hand,  then  opened  the 
old  box,  took  out  the  paper  he  wanted  and 
said  to  her  as  gayly  as  he  could,  "This  paper 
is  the  one  that  Auntie  Alice  called  'Mary's 
chains/  because  it  has  bound  her  down  to 
hard  work  for  many  years.  But  it  will 
never  do  it  again,  for  you  and  I  have  taken 
it  away,  and  I  am  going  to  fix  it  so  it  won't 
ever  trouble  her  any  more." 

"  Oh,  how  nice  that  is !  I  am  so  glad  now, 
I  did  do  it — but  I  was  scared — only  you 
looked  at  me  all  the  time." 

"Well,  that  is  fine,"  said  he,  "and  I  will 
look  at  you  now  while  you  put  the  box  back, 
just  where  you  found  it." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  afraid,  now  that  the  'chains' 
are  all  gone." 

And  she  went  back,  climbed  up  again  be- 
side the  old  secretary,  put  the  box  in  its 
place  and  closed  the  door  without  ever  once 
looking  back  at  him.  She  clapped  her 


Elwood  231 

hands  then,  scrambled  down  and  ran  to  him ; 
but,  after  a  squeeze,  he  sent  her  in  once 
more  to  put  the  chair  in  its  right  place. 

"Now  that  we  have  everything  all  done, 
we  won't  think  any  more  about  it.  But, 
after  I  go  away,  if  you  ever  see  Uncle  Mary 
troubled  about  anything,  you  just  tell  her 
what  we  did  to-day.  Will  you  remember?" 

"Yes,  I'll  remember,"  she  said,  her  little 
face  growing  old  in  "remembering,"  as  it 
had  had  to  do  in  the  "Home"  when  charged 
with  what  seemed  responsibilities.  Then, 
he  sent  her  to  tell  Auntie  Alice  and  Uncle 
Mary  that  they  might  come  in  any  time  they 
wanted  to — and  that  was  such  fun — telling 
them  what  they  might  do! 

As  for  Mary  and  Alice,  their  minds  had 
been  busy,  and  their  tongues  as  well,  with 
the  thought  of  who  the  "party"  could  be 
that  was  bringing  information  from  far 
Oklahoma  about  their  little  girl.  It  was 
certainly  a  problem  beyond  solving.  When 
they  came  back  into  the  living  room,  Mary 
went  to  Elwood  at  once  to  see  if  he  was  com- 


232  Uncle  Mary 

fortable,  and  bring  him  some  broth.  After 
he  had  taken  it,  he  said  to  her  as  casually 
as  he  could : 

"Did  you  say  since  I  came  that  Parson 
Still  well  was  still  living?" 

"Yes,"  returned  Mary,  "and  pretty  well 
for  over  seventy  years." 

"I'd  like  to  see  him,  Mary,"  he  said. 
"Can't  you  send  that  chauffeur  of  yours 
for  him?"  he  added,  with  a  smile  to  hide 
the  feeling  that  was  beneath  the  request. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Mary,  "if  you  think 
you  feel  strong  enough  to  see  him.  I  sent 
him  a  note  yesterday,  telling  him  I  thought 
quiet  was  the  best  thing  for  you,  and  asking 
him  to  let  folks  know  that  you  were  here, 
but  not  to  let  them  come." 

He  looked  at  Mary  in  surprise  at  this, 
remembering  the  family  way  of  keeping 
things  entirely  to  themselves;  he  had 
thought  she  would  disapprove  of  his  want- 
ing to  see  even  the  old  parson.  But  the  way 
was  instantly  made  smooth  by  this,  so  dif- 
ferent Mary. 


Elwood  233 

It  was  not  later  than  half  an  hour  till  the 
minister  came,  and  during  that  time  Elwood 
had  rested  completely  with  his  door  closed. 

When  Mr.  Stillwell  left  after  an  inter- 
view alone  with  Elwood,  the  old  minister 
carried  a  paper  and  quite  a  sum  of  money 
hidden  in  his  Sunday  coat.  And  neither  he 
nor  that  most  orthodox  garment  had  a  bit 
of  a  look  of  guilt  about  them ! 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

DEVELOPMENT 

ON  the  second  day  after  receipt  of  the 
last  telegram  in  the  brown  cottage,  a  well- 
dressed  stranger  appeared  again  at  the 
hotel  in  Barringer.  He  was  of  medium 
height  and  good  proportions,  dark  brown 
hair,  serious  eyes  and  determined  jaw.  But, 
with  a  smile,  his  eyes  lit  up  as  though  elec- 
trified. 

He  was  evidently  a  business  man,  for 
there  seemed  to  be  no  time  to  lose  as  he  made 
his  plans  for  indefinite  hire  of  a  taxi,  and 
started  down  the  hotel  steps. 

But  a  lounger  in  the  soft  May  air  that 
pervaded  the  hotel  veranda,  suddenly  called 
to  him: 

"Say,  stranger,  I've  got  some  Sunfield 
news  for  you!" 

The  stranger  hesitated  a  moment;  then 

234 


Development  235 


said  pleasantly,  "I  don't  believe  I  have  any 
time  for  gossip  to-day,"  and  was  about  to 
continue  on  his  way.  But  the  lounger  was 
not  to  be  denied.  He  leaned  over  the 
banisters  and  his  voice  carried  easily: 
"Say,  I  saw  Sophie  Stoneham  to-day  and 
she  says  that  Elwood  Halsey  has  got  back, 
and  he  and  Mary  have  made  up.  Says 
Sunfield's  beginning  to  think  Mary's 
sprouted  wings!" 

If  he  had  more  to  say,  the  stranger  did 
not  know  what  it  was;  for,  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand,  he  was  down  the  steps  to  meet  the 
taxi-cab  which  drew  up  in  front  of  the  hotel, 
and  in  another  moment  he  was  off,  on  the 
road  to  Sunfield. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  COMING  AND  A  GOING 

IT  was  evening  of  the  third  day ;  a  golden 
and  green  evening  of  promise  after  two 
days  of  rain.  Mary  and  Alice  could  not  re- 
strain a  nervous  tension — Mary's  having  a 
degree  of  strange  outreach  in  it — as  though 
something  long  pending  were  coming  to 
fruition;  or,  rather  as  though  she  had 
dreamed  all  that  already  had  come  and  was 
to  come,  and  that  the  dream,  once  gone  over, 
was  being  repeated.  There  was  also  a  pe- 
culiar assurance  mixed  with  her  strained 
expectancy. 

Elwood's  bodily  strength  did  not  gain, 
and  his  mind  seemed  perfectly  passive. 
He  talked  little,  but  his  eyes  kindled  con- 
stantly when  Libbie  Lee  was  in  sight — as 
she  usually  was,  for  she  liked  nothing  bet- 

236 


A  Coming  and  a  Going  237 

ter  than  to  "do  things"  for  him,  or  sit  and 
talk  to  him.  / 

So  the  third  day  had  passed,  and  it  was 
just  after  they  had  had  their  tea  that  the 
expected  whirr  of  an  auto  came  from  the 
street,  and  a  man  was  seen  to  alight  and 
walk  briskly  up  the  front  path  to  the  door 
while  the  taxi  waited.  Mary  at  the  first 
sound  closed  Elwood's  room,  and  looking 
out  toward  the  front  again,  felt  a  sudden 
leap  of  heart  at  something  familiar  in  the 
gait  of  the  man  approaching.  But  there 
was  no  time — 

His  ring  was  at  the  door — she  had  opened 
it  and  stood  face  to  face  with  the  caller — a 
well-dressed,  well-built  man  of  perhaps 
thirty-one,  with  a  fine,  serious  face  which 
lit  up  instantly  at  Mary's  low,  astonished 
cry: 

"Winthrope  Arnold!" 

"Yes,  Mary,"  he  smiled. 

And  for  a  moment  she  did  not  move, 
then — she  was  asking  him  in,  and  intro- 
ducing him  to  Alice.  As  for  Libbie  Lee 


238  Uncle  Mary 

she  ran  to  him  instantly,  and  smiling  up 
in  his  face,  said,  "I  remember  you!" 

He  took  her  at  once  upon  his  knee  in 
much  evident  pleasure : 

"You  do  remember  me?  That  is  fine! 
I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't. " 

"Yes,"  she  went  on  excitedly,  "you 
came  to  the  'Home',  and  you  took  me  on 
your  knee,  just  like  this,  and  you  talked  to 
me  and  told  me  stories  and  asked  me,  Oh 
lots  of  things!  And  you  read  to  me  and 
showed  me  picture  books.  You  stayed  a 
long  time,  Oh  'most  all  day,  and  you  sat  by 
me  at  dinner  and  put  nice  things  on  my 
plate !  Then  the  next  day  a  man  came  and 
a  nurse,  in  a  car — but  not  near  as  nice  as 
our  car — and  took  me  to  the  train  and 
brought  me  here  to  Uncle  Mary  and  Auntie 
Alice." 

This  immediate  childish  chatter  was  a 
great  relief  to  them  all,  but  when  she  came  to 
the  innocent  "Uncle  Mary,"  Mary  Halsey's 
face  flamed  scarlet. 

But  Winthrope  Arnold,  glancing  up  at 


A  Coming  and  a  Going  239 

her,  smiled  with  such  repressed  humor  and 
delight  in  his  eyes  that  the  flame  died  down, 
and  there  was  question  instead,  upon  her 
sensitive  face. 

Eeminiscences  between  the  two  old  friends 
seemed  about  concluded,  and  Mary  said, 
"Now,  Libbie  Lee,  we  are  going  to  let  you 
take  care  of  our  patient  while  Mr.  Arnold 
and  Alice  and  I  have  a  talk." 

The  little  girl  looked  her  surprise  and 
would  have  liked  to  stay,  but  after  an  in- 
stant's hesitation  she  went  obediently  in, 
and  was  quite  as  ready  to  talk  there  when 
Elwood's  eyes  welcomed  her. 

"My  brother  is  ill  there,"  said  Mary,  in  a 
low  voice,"  and  we  will  talk  quietly  lest  we 
disturb  him.  He  is  accustomed  to  Libbie 
Lee  and  loves  to  hear  her  chatter,"  she 
added. 

Instinctively  they  drew  close  together 
and  Mr.  Arnold  at  once  began  upon  the  pur- 
pose of  his  coming,  ignoring  the  recogni- 
tion which  had  passed  between  him  and 
Mary,  greatly  to  her  relief. 


240  Uncle  Mary 

"I  am  afraid  what  I  know  about  the  child 
is  going  to  be  disappointing  to  you,  for  it  is 
in  fact  fragmentary.  I  take  it  you  have  an 
urgent  reason  for  wishing  to  know  about  her 
and  the  facts  do  admit  of  such  a  develop- 
ment appearing  at  any  time,  so  I  came  at 


once.' 


Mary  merely  bowed,  for  full  explana- 
tion of  her  desire  to  know  the  child's  his- 
tory would  have  been  hard  at  that  mo- 
ment. 

"The  story  is  simply  this;  I  became  in- 
terested in  the  child  at  the  orphanage  where 
I  found  her — as  you  will  both  believe,  having 
seen  the  child  recognize  me  the  moment  I 
came  in — and  I  talked  with  the  orphanage 
authorities  about  her.  I  wanted  to  know 
her  parentage,  and  any  facts  they  had  con- 
cerning her.  I  found  the  facts  very  meager, 
indeed.  She  came  to  them  at  the  time  of 
the  terrible  influenza  epidemic  in  New  York, 
when  hospitals  were  filled  to  overflowing, 
and  everything  was  in  confusion.  The 
child  was  brought  to  the  'Home'  by  a  trained 


A  Coming  and  a  Going  241 

nurse  who  said  that  both  mother  and  child 
were  ill  when  an  ambulance  delivered  them 
at  the  hospital ;  the  mother  was  unconscious 
and  soon  died.  The  child  grew  rapidly  bet- 
ter, but  no  one  came  to  see  about  it,  in  fact 
no  one  had  appeared  to  take  charge  of  the 
mother's  body,  and  they  did  not  know  what 
to  do  with  the  child.  But  the  nurses  had 
become  very  fond  of  it,  and  under  ordinary 
circumstances  they  would  have  kept  it  much 
longer,  but  the  head  nurse  on  the  floor 
was  very  impatient  of  its  staying,  so  one 
of  the  nurses  took  the  matter  in  her 
own  hands,  carrying  the  child  to  this 
orphanage,  of  which  she  knew,  and  which 
was  an  unusually  homey  and  well-managed 
place." 

As  he  reached  this  point  Mary  and  Alice 
exchanged  glances,  for  so  far  it  fitted  in  per- 
fectly with  Elwood's  story.  Noting  this 
Mr.  Arnold  immediately  took  a  little  case 
from  his  pocket.  "Here  is  the  chief  hope 
of  perfect  identification.  It  is  a  little  ring 
that  was  tied  to  the  child's  finger  and  which 


242  Uncle  Mary 

the  'Home'  had  placed  in  their  bank,  to- 
gether with  the  facts  I  have  given  you,  and 
then  transferred  them  all  to  me." 

With  eager  eyes  first  Mary,  and  then 
Alice,  looked  at  a  little  gold  circlet  with  pe- 
culiar carving,  and  found  within  it  the  ini- 
tials F.  D.  IL  from  E.  H!  Neither  could 
speak  for  sudden  tears  and  high  hopes, 
while  Winthrope  Arnold  watched  them  in 
keen  silence. 

At  last  Mary  said  unsteadily,  "It  is  pos- 
sible that  the  child  is  our  brother's.  This 
possibility  caused  me  to  wire  the  bank — 
and  now  everything  fits  in  with  our  hope,  so 
far  as  we  can  see.  Our  brother  will  know 
definitely  about  the  ring,  of  course.  I  will 
prepare  him  somewhat  for  it  and  send 
Libbie  Lee  back  to  you,"  she  ended,  looking 
at  Alice. 

With  the  sudden  exchange  of  nurses  El- 
wood  looked  up  in  surprise  at  Mary's 
flushed  and  excited  face. 

"Elwood,"  she  said,  as  quietly  as  she 
could,  "can  you  bear  a  great  possible  joy, 


A  Coming  and  a  Going  243 

or  perhaps  raised  hope  and  great  disap- 
pointment?" 

"The  child!"  he  exclaimed.  "It  is  some- 
thing about  her!  I  know  it!"  Then  more 
quietly;  "Yes,  I  can  bear  anything,"  and  an 
other-world  look  in  his  eyes  lit  up  the  shad- 
ows. 

"You  are  right.  It  is  about  the  child — 
your  child,  I  hope."  And  then  Mary  went 
rapidly  over  the  facts  she  had  just  heard 
till  she  came  to  the  little  ring  and  his  lips 
barely  whispered,  "Let  me  see  it." 

When  it  was  in  his  hands  the  joy  in  that 
wasted  face  was  beyond  telling  about. 

At  last  he  could  say  to  Mary, — "  Florence 
and  I  bought  this  just  before  I  went  to  war 
— Florence  said,  'So  that  she  could  have 
something  to  remember  me  by, ' — and  I  knew 
she  meant  if  I  did  not  come  back. 

"It  has  baby's  initials  and  mine  in  it — 
Florence  Darlington  Halsey — named  for  her 
mother — bring  her  to  me,  Mary — "  he  ended 
brokenly. 

But  Mary  hovered  over  him  anxiously  a 


244  Uncle  Mary 

moment — "Elwood,  dear,  we  must  not 
frighten  her,  you  know." 

At  this  he  took  instant  control  of  his  fail- 
ing forces  and  replied  firmly,  "I  will  not." 

Mary  stepped  back  to  where  the  others 
waited : 

"He  confirms  everything,"  she  whispered. 
Turning  to  the  child  she  said  brightly  as  she 
could  manage,  "Elwood  wants  you,  dear." 

The  child  was  keenly  conscious  of  the 
strong  under-current  of  high  emotion  about 
her,  and  she  stood  bewildered  at  Mary's 
word,  so  that  Mary  must  at  last  lead  her  in, 
leaving  immediately  afterward. 

So  the  father  had  his  moment  alone  with 
the  little  girl,  and  he  didn't  frighten  her  in 
the  least,  for  after  a  brief  time  she  came 
smiling  back  into  the  living-room  to  say 
carefully, — "Father  wants  to  see  Mr.  Ar- 
nold, now."  It  was  evidently  a  little  lesson 
he  had  taught  her  and  she  was  so  pleased 
to  repeat  it. 

There  were  questions  Elwood  must  ask 
Mr.  Arnold  and  as  soon  as  the  brief  greet- 


A  Coming  and  a  Going  245 

ings  between  the  two  men  were  over,  there 
came  from  Elwood :  "What  about  the  child's 
name?  How  did  it  become  changed?" 

"They  explained  that  to  me;  for,  like  you, 
I  questioned,  seeing  that  it  did  not  corres- 
pond with  the  initials  in  the  ring,"  replied 
Mr.  Arnold.  "The  nurse  said,  when  they 
asked  the  child  her  name,  she  would  only 
say  'Darling,'  which  sounded  more  like 
Starling  as  she  said  it,  and  growing  so  fond 
of  her  they  had  given  her  different  names. 
One  called  her  Elizabeth,  another  said  Lib- 
bie  Lee,  and  they  all  agreed  on  'Starling' 
for  her  last  name.  They  taught  her  to  say 
that  her  name  was  Elizabeth  Lee  Starling, 
because  they  loved  to  hear  her  say  it.  The 
nurses  had  taken  her  first  from  the  floor 
where  they  worked,  and  had  kept  her  in 
their  dormitory  as  long  as  they  dared ;  then, 
finally,  since  nobody  had  come  to  inquire 
for  her,  one  of  them  took  her  to  the  orphan- 
age. All  this  was  recorded  in  the  books  of 
the  'Home,'  so  that  I  could  see  for  myself. 
And  the  ring  had  been  taken  from  her  fin- 


246  Uncle  Mary 


ger — for  it  was  too  large  and  simply  tied 
on — lest  it  get  lost  with  only  institutional 
care  for  the  child,  amid  so  many  other  chil- 
dren. It  was  put  in  the  orphanage  bank 
for  safe-keeping." 

"  Everything  fits  in  with  what  I  found 
when  I  came  back  from  over-seas,"  said 
Elwood,  triumph  in  his  voice. 

Mr.  Arnold  congratulated  him  with  quiet 
warmth,  not  only  on  finding  his  child,  but 
on  finding  one  so  lovable  as  Libbie  Lee. 

"You  can  see  she  was  just  the  child  I 
wanted,"  he  put  in,  at  last,  quickly.  Then, 
as  quickly,  he  realized  it  would  seem  odd 
that  he  should  want  a  child  at  all!  "I  am 
a  bachelor,  it  is  true,"  he  smiled,  and  turned 
to  Mary  who  had  stood  by  during  the  inter- 
view. "Just  why  I  wanted  the  child  I  am 
going  to  tell  Mary,  when  she  will  let  me. 
You  do  not  know,  perhaps,  Mr.  Halsey,  that 
Mary  and  I  are  old  friends — " 

"No,  I  do  not,"  said  Elwood.  Then 
added,  "A  friend  she  found  after  I  left 
home,  I  suppose?" 


A  Coming  and  a  Going  247 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  "a  short  time 
before."  And  Mary's  face  flamed  like  a 
girl's  again,  while  Elwood  looked  puzzled. 
But  Winthrope  Arnold  was  taking  things 
in  his  own  hands,  as  he  had  a  way  of  doing. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  her  as  soon  as  possible, 
why  I  wanted  this  dear  little  girl,"  he  re- 
peated. And  Elwood  knew  as  he  looked  in- 
to their  faces  that  there  was  a  heart-story  be- 
tween them.  Winthrope  went  on,  however, 
closing  the  subject  for  the  moment:  "For 
you,  Mr.  Halsey,  I  am  sure  nothing  more  is 
needed.  You  have  complete  evidence  that 
would  stand  in  any.  court,  and  I  cheerfully 
turn  over  any  claim  I  have,  though  I  am 
exceedingly  fond  of  the  child.  Surely  there 
was  a  guiding  eternal  spirit  that  brought 
together  these  threads  for  you  at  this 
time,"  he  ended  with  gentle  reverence. 

And  Elwood  murmured  in  response:  "I 
know  it."  After  a  few  moments'  silence 
he  turned  to  Mary  again  with  the  low  cry: 
"Bring  her  to  me!" 

They  brought  her  and  left  the  two  to- 


248  Uncle  Mary 


getlier  for  an  hour  upon  which  no  one  in- 
truded. Then  the  child  opened  the  door 
once  more,  and  looking  at  Winthrope  Ar- 
nold, said:  "Fa-fa-ther  wants  you!"  Father 
was  a  word  that  she  had  never  used,  and 
really  hardly  knew. 

The  two  went  quickly  back  to  Elwood,  the 
child  holding  Winthrope 's  hand  tightly. 
Elwood  gripped  the  two  together  in  a  close 
clasp,  and  looking  into  Winthrope  Arnold's 
eyes,  murmured,  "She  is  yours,  you  found 
her,"  while  his  own  searching,  other- world 
gaze  added  many  things  to  the  simple  words. 

Winthrope  returned  the  speechless  plea 
in  kind,  his  eyes  saying  most  re-assuring 
things;  then  his  lips  softly  questioned,  "And 
Mary's?" 

A  satisfied  smile  was  the  answer,  while 
Elwood  added,  "I  do  not  mind  what  you 
call  her — that  will  make  little  difference  to 
Florence  and  me  in  our  world." 

"Now,  I  will  rest,"  said  the  sick  man, 
quite  strongly,  as  he  waved  the  two  away. 

They  left  him  then  to  rest  completely. 


A  Coming  and  a  Going  249 

When  Mary  went  in  an  hour  later  to  take 
some  broth,  she  found  him  resting,  indeed 
— asleep  till  the  eternal  day  dawn. 

In  his  coat  pocket  was  found  a  marked 
envelope  containing  sufficient  money  for  all 
needs  that  followed. 

It  so  happened  that  the  little  village  of 
Sunfield  had  not  had  a  soldier  burial  from 
the  great  war.  She  had  sent  some  of  her 
few  sons  into  the  great  conflict,  but  all  had 
come  back ;  one  or  two  with  wounds,  it  was 
true,  but  all  with  life  and  limb,  sight  and 
hearing. 

Now,  when  Elwood  Halsey  had  come  to 
them,  broken  with  the  long  struggle  over- 
seas and  at  home  hospitals,  only  to  pass  on 
to  the  great  beyond,  the  town  determined 
there  should  be  such  a  burial  as  the  little 
place  had  never  known.  So,  it  happened 
that  flags  were  everywhere,  hanging  at  half- 
mast  it  was  true,  but  beautiful  with  the 
colors  that  Americans  love;  and  a  wonder- 
ful band  came  from  New  York.  Winthrope 


250  Uncle  Mary 

Arnold  could  have  told  how  this  came  about. 
In  fact  when  Mary  asked  him  about  it  later, 
he  replied,  "I  went  to  war — but  I  didn't 
get  a  scratch.  They  kept  me  here  till  too 
late,  you  know.  I  felt  that  this  privilege 
belonged  to  me  now." 

With  the  band  playing  battle  hymns 
Americans  love,  with  flags  waving,  and 
every  one  that  could  ride  or  walk  in  the  long 
line  following  the  music  and  colors,  while 
the  glad  New  England  May  held  out  leaf 
and  flower  from  every  tree  or  bush  along 
the  way,  it  seemed  a  beautiful  thing  to  little 
Libbie  Lee.  The  three  grown  people  who 
had  her  in  charge  had  done  what  they  could 
to  make  it  seem  so  to  her.  For  Mary  had 
said,  at  once,  to  the  other  two,  that  this 
must  be  so ;  and  she  was  exceedingly  grate- 
ful that  a  revelation  of  the  hearts  and  minds 
of  children  had  given  her  some  understand- 
ing just  in  time;  also  that  she,  herself,  had 
grasped  anew  the  beauty  of  His  plan  for  the 
world,  which  included  death  as  well  as  life. 

At  the  sloping  hillside,  as  the  long  line 


A  Coming  and  a  Going          251 

broke  and  gathered  in  the  soft  grass  and 
about  the  silent  shafts  of  white,  Parson 
Stillwell's  fine  old  voice  rang  out  in  the 
triumphal  passages  about  "  mortality  and 
immortality/'  his  white  hair  softly  waving 
in  the  breeze,  and  his  head  lifted  in  rever- 
ent, joyful  assurance. 

Young  Stanley  stood  by  his  side,  looking 
eagerly  up  into  his  face,  and  in  a  moment 
Libbie  Lee  stood  there,  too.  Stooping,  as 
he  finished  the  last  triumphant  word,  the 
old  minister  picked  the  little  girl  up  in  his 
arms  and  made  his  brief,  ringing  benedic- 
tion with  the  child  clasped  close  to  him. 
Then  he  stepped  away,  carrying  her  in  his 
arms  back  to  the  limousine  where  he  placed 
her  on  the  back  seat  to  wait  for  the  others. 

As  he  did  so,  the  little  girl  looked  up  and 
met  his  smile;  " Wasn't  it  all  beautiful? " 
she  said. 

"Yes,  dear  child,  it  was,"  said  the  old  man. 

And  that  was  the  sweet  memory  which 
Libbie  Lee  was  destined  to  carry  through 
all  the  after  years  of  her  life. 


CHAPTER  XX 

FEMININE  OBSTINACY  AND  MASCULINE 
DECISION 

IT  was  several  days  later  before  Win- 
thrope  Arnold  found  time  and  opportunity 
for  his  talk  with  Mary. 

Knowing  there  was  no  hotel  in  the  place, 
he  had  asked  Stafford,  the  chauffeur,  how 
he  was  being  taken  care  of;  then  went  at 
once  to  Sam  and  Maggie  Oldham  and  per- 
suaded them  to  take  him  in  also,  which  they 
did,  making  shift  in  some  way  that  house- 
wives know  about. 

Dismissing  his  taxi,  he  had  remained  in 
the  village  and  had  been  close  at  hand  dur- 
ing the  time  of  need  for  the  Halsey  girls. 
When  all  was  over  he  still  lingered. 

Mary  was  longing  for,  and  yet  dreading 
so  much,  the  talk  with  him,  that  she  could 
not  make  plans  for  it.  Hence  it  devolved 

252 


Feminine  Obstinacy  253 

upon  Winthrope.  He  caught  a  moment 
alone  with  her. 

"Mary,"  he  urged,  "I  must  have  that  talk 
with  you,  undisturbed.  Can  you  plan  for 
it?" 

The  warm,  red  blood  ran  to  her  soft  hair. 
"I — don't  know  how,"  she  said,  her  voice 
unsteady. 

"Well,  I  do,"  he  returned,  firmly. 

Not  a  word  more  was  said,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment Alice's  chair  wheels  were  softly  heard 
as  she  turned  into  the  room.  Winthrope 
stepped  instantly  forward. 

"Alice,  we're  planning  a  ride  this  morn- 
ing for  you  and  Libbie  Lee.  The  little  girl 
needs  it,  and  it  will  be  worth  a  great  deal 
to  you,  as  well.  Mary  says  she  has  a  woman 
doing  some  work  in  the  kitchen,  which  she 
must  overlook,  and  she  and  I  are  going  to 
talk  over  some  business  matters,  which  must 
be  taken  up  before  I  leave." 

Alice  agreed  at  once — and  she  was  not  un- 
aware of  the  processes  by  which  this  had 
been  brought  about.  Mary's  face  would  not 


254  Uncle  Mary 


cool  down,  for  one  thing,  and  besides  there 
was  a  decided  atmosphere  of  masculine  deci- 
sion and  dispatch.  So  it  did  not  surprise 
her  to  be  bundled  off  without  ceremony, 
while  Libbie  Lee,  though  not  so  discerning, 
was  equally  amenable ;  yet,  when  it  was  also 
planned  that  they  should  go  by  and  get  Stan- 
ley to  go  with  them,  it  could  not  be  put  down 
perhaps  to  telepathic  or  psychic  manifesta- 
tion that  the  little  girl  should  lean  her  head 
out  of  the  car  as  they  started  off,  and  cry, 
"We're  going  to  be  gone  a  long  time!" 

When  Mary  and  Winthrope  stood  alone, 
he  grasped  her  hands,  then  searched  her 
eyes  with  his. 

"Mary,  I've  waited  a  long  time,"  he  said. 

"I  know,  Winthrope,"  she  returned,  her 
lips  quivering.  "It  has  been  wonderful — 
your  faithfulness.  And  I  have  been  true, 
too,  to  you — but  I  have  been  so  unlovely 
about  it!  You  don't  know!" 

"No,  and  I  don't  want  to  know!  What 
does  it  matter,  now?  We  stand  here  free 
— and  it  is  spring!" 


Feminine  Obstinacy  255 

And  he  would  have  taken  her  to  him,  but 
she  put  him  back  with  a  cry:  " There  are 
many  things  you  do  not  know — and  I  don't 
know  how  I  am  going  to  tell  you  all  of 
them!"  Her  face  quivered  again  as  she 
turned  from  him. 

But  the  ten  years  since  they  had  met  had 
made  a  very  determined  man  of  Winthrope 
Arnold.  He  drew  Mary  to  a  chair  with  a 
sure  hand  that  she  did  not  resist;  then  he 
seated  himself  beside  her. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you  some  things  first," 
he  said,  "and  make  some  apology  on  my 
own  account.  When  you  so  flatly  told  me 
ten  years  ago  that  you  could  not  marry  me, 
that  your  life  must  be  given  to  family  de- 
mands, I  was  young,  I  had  nothing,  and  I 
did  not  know  how  to  answer  so  decided  an 
argument  as  you  put  up.  So  I  went  away, 
with  my  youth  suddenly  gone,  and  a  sort  of 
reckless  resentment  in  its  place.  I  took  a 
train  for  the  west  at  once. 

"I  wrote  you  twice,"  he  went  on,  looking 
keenly  at  her,  and  she  murmured,  "I  know." 


256  Uncle  Mary 

Then  he  continued:  "My  yearning,  trusting 
youth  sent  a  faint  echo  back,  you  see;  but 
when  no  replies  came,  it  fled  beyond  recall. 
I  determined  to  see  the  world,  so  I  traveled 
from  point  to  point,  earning  enough  to 
travel,  but  caring  for  nought  beside.  Of 
course  I  saw  hundreds  of  women,  but  no 
woman  made  the  least  appeal  to  me;  and, 
naturally,  I  did  not  learn  to  know  any 
woman  well.  Weariness  of  change  inevita- 
bly comes  to  most  men,  and  after  the  war  I 
settled  down  in  Oklahoma,  becoming  inter- 
ested in  oil  development.  It  caught  me 
with  the  freshness  of  a  new  game,  and  to  my 
astonishment  I  went  into  it  with  zest — and 
I  won — magnificently. 

"Now,  Mary,  what  do  you  suppose  I 
thought  of  first,  when  I  found  myself  in 
possession  of  more  money  than  I  knew  what 
to  do  with?"  He  did  not  wait  for  her  to 
answer.  Bending  near,  his  face  alight,  he 
whispered — * '  You ! ' ' 

Mary  put  out  a  hand  in  pathetic  appeal. 
She  felt  that  she  could  not  stand  it! 


Feminine  Obstinacy  257 

Reading  at  once  the  stress  of  her  emotion, 
lie  leaned  back  and  began  again  in  straight- 
forward fashion. 

"Now,  here  is  where  my  apology  comes 
in.  I  started  for  here,  and  put  up  for  a 
few  hours  in  Barringer.  You  cannot  realize 
the  uncertainties  that  pressed  upon  me.  I 
hadn't  the  least  idea  what  had  happened  to 
you  since  I  saw  you  last.  You  might  be 
married,  or  not  living,  you  know,7'  he 
pleaded.  "So  I  was  tempted,  and  inter- 
viewed a  lounger  about  the  hotel,  asking 
first  a  simple  question  about  Sunfield;  and 
finding  immediately  that  he  was  born  here 
and  knew  everybody,  I  asked  him  to  tell  me 
about  some  .of  the  old  families;  and, 
before  he  was  through,  I  heard  about 
you." 

"Then  you  heard  some  very  unlovely 
things,  I  know!  It  was  inevitable,  Win- 
thrope,"  and  her  tongue  being  loosened, 
Mary  was  obliged  to  pour  out  her  story. 
"Oh,  I  was  so  ugly  and  narrow,  and  hateful, 
that  the  town  despised  me,  and  I  do  not 


258  Uncle  Mary 


blame  them.  I  worked  hard — and  some 
might  admit  that  I  was  unselfish,  but  that 
did  not  help  matters.  All  my  hard  work, 
selfish  or  unselfish,  could  count  for  nothing 
for  God  or  man,  because  I  was  so  bitter  and 
mean  and  domineering!" 

Her  eyes  were  swimming  with  tears,  at 
last,  and  he  gently  drew  her  against  his 
breast. 

"You  did  not  let  me  finish/'  he  smiled,  as 
she  recovered  herself  again.  *  'I  heard  about 
how  hard  life  had  been  for  you — and  then  I 
came  to  see." 

She  looked  up  at  him  in  quick  inquiry. 

"No,"  he  smiled  again,  "and  here  is  where 
you  must  forgive  most.  I  came  up  here  to 
your  front  door  one  night,  and  looked  upon 
you  and  Alice  as  you  sat  here.  Your  face 
was  turned  to  me,  Mary,  and  I  saw  what 
hard  work  and  bitterness  had  done  for  you. 
I  knew  it  was  not  worth  while  to  speak  to 
you  then — for  you  or  for  me,"  he  added 
honestly;  "and  yet  I  could  not  give  up  the 
sweetheart  whom  I  knew,  in  some  undefined 


Feminine  Obstinacy  259 

way,  still  held  within  her  the  possibilities  of 
sweet,  true  living. 

"I  went  away,  but  I  do  not  give  up  easily 
these  later  years.  I  said  to  myself,  'What 
could  bring  rest  and  fuller  life  to  her? 
Money?  Yes,  but  not  money  alone.  A 
child!  A  little  girl!  No  real  woman's 
heart  can  resist  a  little  child ! '  And  I  knew 
you  would  give  her  the  best  of  life  prin- 
ciples. If  you  could  not  make  her  happy, 
I  would  take  her  away.  But  I  had  faith 
that  you  would.  So  I  set  about  finding  a 
child,  and,  in  a  way  that  only  God  can  bring 
about,  I  was  led  to  your  own  brother's  little 
daughter.  You  know  the  rest,"  he  ended. 

"Yes,  yes"  she  hurried  to  say,  "and  I 
cannot  thank  you  enough.  You  read  aright, 
nothing  in  the  world  could  have  done  for 
me  what  that  little  child  has  done.  And, 
Winthrope,  I  must  tell  you  what  perhaps  I 
shall  never  want  to  tell  you  again;  some- 
how I  felt  in  my  soul  that  you  had  sent  that 
child !  I  told  Alice  I  would  not  take  it  if  I 
thought  it  was  Elwood's!" 


260  Uncle  Mary 

And  she  was  caught  for  a  moment  with 
tragic  recollection  of  her  bitterness  toward 
her  brother.  But  she  forced  herself  to  go 
on: 

"  Alice  would  say,  *  Whose  else  can  it  be*' 
And  I  had  no  answer — but  somehow  I  knew ! 
The  town  settled  it  at  once  that  she  was 
Elwood's  child,  and  when  they  asked  how  I 
got  her  I  always  answered,  'I  stole  her,' 
which  they  did  not  believe,  but  which  was 
true,  because  I  could  not  think  Elwood  had 
sent  her,  and  so  I  had  no  certain  claim.  I 
had  taken  something  which  did  not  really 
belong  to  me. 

"It  was  strange  my  taking  the  child,  of 
course;  it  was  so  out-of-character, "  and  she 
smiled  a  little  grimly,  "but  the  whole  thing 
seemed  fore-ordained  and  predestinated,  as 
the  old  theologians  say,  and  I  was  in  a 
certain  state  of  almost  hilarious  acquies- 
cence from  the  moment  the  bank's  letter 
came.  Of  course  you  had  planned  it  so  I 
could  not  have  stopped  the  child's  coming 
to  the  house  if  I  had  wanted  to.  But  I  did 


Feminine  Obstinacy  261 

not  want  to!  I  wanted  her  from  the  first 
moment  I  heard  of  her!" 

Winthrope  Arnold  listened  with  deep 
satisfaction,  and  was  about  to  take  advan- 
tage of  Mary's  attitude,  but  she  was  not 
through. 

"It  was  really  funny  about  the  money 
that  came  with  the  child.  Any  one,  know- 
ing me,  would  have  said  I  would  refuse  to 
use  such  large  sums  of  money,  not  knowing 
whence  they  came.  The  town  thought,  of 
course,  that  Elwood  had  gotten  rich,  some- 
how/' she  threw  in.  Then  continuing: 
"But  I  felt  a  strange  right  to  it,  that  even 
Alice  couldn't  understand,  though  I  figured 
out  to  her  what  my  services  were  worth  to 
the  child ;  and  then  the  bank  wrote  me  as  to 
what  was  intended  in  the  way  of  up-keep 
for  a  home  for  the  child.  So,  it  satisfied 
my  conscience.  Let  me  tell  you  just  how  I 
planned  it,  for  I  have  kept  books,"  she 
smiled,  and  immediately  started  to  rise,  but 
he  held  her  back  with  determined  hand. 

"Mary,  Mary!    What  do  I  care  about 


262  Uncle  Mary 

that  ?  We  will  have  plenty  of  time  for  that 
later,  if  you  must  show  me.  Now  we  have 
only  a  few  precious  moments  for  vital 
things!" 

And  she  yielded  again. 

"This  is  all  beautiful  that  you  have  told 
me.  I  am  more  grateful  than  I  can  ever 
say  that  I  was  so  reenforced  in  my  under- 
taking by  your  own  touch  with  the  eternal 
current  of  things.  But  now,  now  I  want  to 
know  when  you  are  coming  to  me!  To  me 
and  my  little  girl — for  Elwood  gave  her  to 
me  in  those  last  moments  I  had  with  him — 
to  me — and  to  you,  if  you  willed  it  so." 

Mary  looked  surprised,  and  distressed 
too,  beyond  measure. 

"Winthrope,"  she  said,  "that  is  as  it 
should  be,  of  course.  You  have  every  right 
to  her,"  her  lips  quivered  pitifully,  "but  I 
have  not  told  you  all.  I — I  have  an  obliga- 
tion that  I  must  meet.  There  is  no  one  else 
to  do  it!" 

"What  is  it?"  he  demanded. 


Feminine  Obstinacy  263 

"I  cannot  tell  you.  It  is  a  family  obliga- 
tion." 

If  Winthrope  had  been  a  swearing  man,  a 
" swear"  might  have  given  him  relief.  But 
he  was  not,  and  so  a  furious  thought  ran 
through  him:  "Of  all  the  obstinacy  in  the 
world,  New  England  has  the — most  outra- 
geous type!" 

Mary  knew  she  was  pushing  him  to  the 
limit,  and  yet  family  pride  could  not  let  her 
yield! 

"Give  me  three  years,"  she  cried,  "and 
then  I  am  ready!  I  can  do  it  in  three 
years!" 

"I  will  not  give  you  three  years,"  he  said 
evenly,  not  pausing  to  ask  what  it  was  she 
could  do  in  three  years ;  and  just  then  Stan- 
ley burst  in  the  door  with  Libbie  Lee  behind 
him. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DEPAKTURES 

AFTER  the  mid-day  meal,  while  Mary 
attended  to  things  in  the  kitchen,  and  the 
children  played  out-doors,  Winthrope  Ar- 
nold found  the  opportunity  he  next  wanted 
for  a  talk  with  Alice  Halsey.  He  drew  his 
chair  up  to  her  and  said  at  once,  "I  want 
to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

She  smiled  readily,  but  a  little  sadly,  in 
acquiescence,  feeling  instantly  that  she  knew 
what  he  wanted  to  talk  about.  The  faces  of 
both  Mary  and  Winthrope  had  told  an  un- 
satisfactory story,  the  moment  she  came  in ; 
and  a  subtle  constraint  between  them  since, 
had  confirmed  it.  But  she  was  much  mis- 
taken as  to  the  matter  which  Winthrope 
wished  to  present  to  her.  He  began  at  once 
in  his  straight-forward  way. 

"You  will  forgive  me  if  I  speak  of  some- 

264 


Departures  265 

thing  personal  to  you,  I  am  sure.  Am  I 
right  in  thinking  that  a  fall  has  deprived 
you  of  the  joy  of  walking?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  surprised  indeed. 
"My  limbs  became  perfectly  helpless, — 
especially  the  right  one,  after  a  fall  from  a 
step-ladder.  They  are  not  exactly  par- 
alyzed, but  they  will  not  work,  though  there 
does  not  seem  to  be  any  real  reason  why 
they  shouldn't!"  and  she  smiled  a  little  rue- 
ful smile,  which  checked  the  impulse,  run- 
ning fast  to  her  tongue,  to  add — "I  think 
Mary  feels  so,  sometimes!" 

"That  is  just  as  I  thought,"  Winthrope 
said.  "Now  I  want  to  tell  you  about  a 
doctor  out  in  my  country  who  does  wonder- 
ful things,  especially  where  there  has  been 
a  fall  and  some  sort  of  displacement  of  the 
spinal  vertebrae.  Over  and  over  I  have 
known  him  to  get  people  upon  their  feet 
who  had  not  walked  for  years.  I  want  him 
to  try  to  do  it  for  you!" 

Her  gentle  face  was  a  study  for  a  moment : 
hope,  long  buried,  flew  forth  to  new  light, 


266  Uncle  Mary 


and  her  eyes  took  fire  for  an  instant.  But 
difficulties  fell  fast  upon  hope's  weakening 
wings,  and  pale  with  the  rapid  transition, 
she  faltered:  "But  I  couldn't  go  to  him,  you 
know." 

"Why?"  he  demanded,  then  answered 
himself.  "Of  course  you  can  go  to  him, 
and  I  mean  that  you  shall!" 

"But,  you  don't  know!  I  couldn't  make 
the  journey — and  then  it  would  cost  so 
much." 

"You  can  make  the  journey!  You  see  I 
have  traveled  a  great  deal,  and  have  seen 
people  going  about  in  all  sorts  of  conditions. 
And,  as  for  the  other  thing — do  you  suppose 
the  money  I  have  made  is  mine  ?  In  a  sense 
it  is,  of  course.  But  it  is  in  my  hands  as  a 
trust,  and  I  can  have  no  joy  in  it  if  it  does 
not  serve  others.  I  spend  a  lot  of  it  self- 
ishly, I  admit,  for  I  am  no  saint;  but 
always  I  am  really  conscious  that  it  has 
been  given  to  me  in  trust.  Now  I  want  to 
spend  some  of  it  for  you — you  will  let  me 
have  this  joy,  won't  you?"  And  his  com- 


Departures  267 

pelling  eyes  seemed  to  make  denial  impos- 
sible. Besides,  that  thrill  of  hope  flew  high 
again,  and  she  found  her  lips  murmuring, 
"I  will  go." 

"That  is  fine!"  exclaimed  Winthrope  in 
keen  delight.  "Now,  you  will  let  me  plan 
everything,  will  you  not1?  Just  be  passive, 
please,"  he  smiled,  "and  I  promise  you  I 
will  see  that  it  is  no  ordeal  to  you,  whatever 
the  final  outcome — which,  naturally,  I  can- 
not guarantee." 

"I  shall  have  to  let  you  plan,"  said  Alice, 
"for  I  am  very  helpless,  both  from  my  long 
infirmity  and  from  the  shut-in  days. 
Though  the  rides  this  spring  have  done 
wonders  for  me,"  she  ended  grate- 
fully. 

"Well,  now,  I  have  business  in  New  York, 
which  must  be  looked  after  as  promptly  as 
possible;  so  I  will  wire  a  doctor  friend, 
whom  I  have  there,  to  send  me  at  once  the 
best  trained  nurse  he  knows.  She  will  get 
here  in  the  morning,  then  we  can  start  in  the 
afternoon." 


268  Uncle  Mary 

Alice's  breath  was  gone !  When  she  found 
it  she  exclaimed,  "Oh,  I  couldn't  possibly 
get  ready  in  that  time!  Why,  I  haven't 
told  Mary,  yet!" 

Winthrope  smiled  a  little  grimly  at  this, 
but  he  only  said,  "That  will  take  a  very  few 
moments;  and  as  to  getting  ready,  we  will 
stop  in  New  York  a  few  days  for  my  busi- 
ness matters,  and  the  nurse  can  get  any- 
thing which  she  and  you  together,  may 
decide  you  will  need." 

Mary  stepped  into  the  room,  at  this  junc- 
ture, wholly  unprepared  for  what  was  to 
come. 

Winthrope  began  at  once:  "Mary,  I  am 
sure  there  is  hope  for  Alice  to  walk  again. 
We  have  a  doctor  out  in  my  country  that 
I  feel  certain  can  do  the  trick.  She  has 
consented  to  try  it,  and  we  leave  for  New 
York  to-morrow  afternoon." 

Mary's  spirit  tottered  for  an  instant,  and 
her  limbs  almost  did  likewise,  but  with  her 
usual  unfailing  strength,  she  rallied,  and 
finally  said  a  little  coldly : 


Departures  269 

"Then,  since  it  is  all  settled,  you  do  not 
need  a  word  from  me." 

"But  Mary,"  cried  Alice,  "I  will  not  do 
it  if  you  do  not  want  me  to!" 

Mary  was  on  trial  a  moment,  but  the  best 
within  her  won  out. 

"Alice,  if  I  could  see  you  able  to  walk 
again  it  would  be  the  greatest  joy  to  me! 
As  to  how  you  and  Winthrope  have  arranged 
things,  I  really  have  no  right  to  question. 
You  should  be  allowed  to  make  your  own 
decisions."  This  was  a  new  Mary,  indeed, 
and  Alice's  eyes  filled,  while  Winthrope 
said: 

"We  both  thank  you,  Mary.  You  have  a 
right,  and  neither  of  us  fails  to  recognize 
it.  But,  that  you  are  so  graciously  will- 
ing to  waive  it,  makes  me  very  happy 
indeed." 

Then  he  told  of  the  plans  in  detail. 

Going  to-morrow!  The  sister  of  whom 
she  had  taken  care  for  so  many  years!  It 
would  seem  almost  that  Alice  had  followed 
Elwood!  Again  Mary's  spirit  tottered. 


270  Uncle  Mary 


But  again  she  was  on  trial,  and  she  sum- 
moned the  ghost  of  a  smile,  as  she  said 
quietly:  "So  it  is  all  arranged.  I  am  glad, 
for  I  could  never  have  done  it."  'And  she 
stooped  and  kissed  her  sister! 

It  had  been  years  since  their  lips  had  met. 
There  was  really  no  call  for  it  in  their  mo- 
notonous living — and  then  New  England 
does  not  wear  its  heart  on  its  sleeve!  But 
Mary  had  left  the  drab  plain  of  repression 
for  a  more  colorful  stratum  where  the  emo- 
tions play  their  daily  part  in  life. 

Mary  turned  instantly  and  left  the  room, 
while  neither  Alice  nor  Winthrope  spoke 
again.  Alice,  indeed,  was  softly  crying,  and 
Winthrope 's  eyes  looked  suspicious  as  he 
went  to  the  door  and  looked  out  to  see  if 
the  children  were  nearby. 

Libbie  Lee  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  and 
came  running.  "Do  you  want  us  ?  Are  we 
going  to  ride?" 

Winthrope  looked  at  his  watch  before  he 
answered  her:  "Yes,  you  may  come  in  in 
five  minutes."  Then  he  stepped  back  and 


Departures  271 

spoke  to  Mary,  whom  he  knew  to  be  just  in 
the  next  room. 

"Mary,  may  we  have  the  car  for  a  ride — 
all  of  us,  the  children  want  to  go  and  I  will 
take  them.  I  would  like  to  send  my  wire 
promptly." 

" Certainly,"  said  Mary,  coming  to  the 
door,  her  face  quite  calm,  while  Alice  spoke 
immediately.  "You  and  the  children  go. 
Let  Mary  and  me  have  a  little  time  alone !" 
Which  was  just  what  Winthrope  had  in 
mind. 

Alice  and  Mary  talked  constantly  over 
details  of  the  coming  trip,  because  they  did 
not  dare  touch  upon  things  of  deeper  im- 
port. Mary,  with  capable  hand,  gathered 
together  the  things  Alice  would  need,  and 
took  the  few  stitches  that  were  necessary  to 
put  them  in  order;  for,  New  England-like, 
they  did  not  allow  things  to  lie  in  dormant 
peace  which  were  in  need  of  repair !  Look- 
ing over  Alice's  belongings,  and  making 
decisions  as  to  what  to  take,  quite  filled 
their  time. 


272  Uncle  Mary 

But,  while  Mary's  hands  were  busy,  her 
heart  was  really  dominated  by  one  thing: 
"What  would  Winthrope  do  about  Libbie 
Lee?"  Not  that  she  was  anxious  from  the 
money  side — she  had  visioned  many  things 
mentally  which  she  might  do,  and  she  knew 
there  would  never  be  a  return  to  needle- 
slavery  for  her.  But  she  could  not  bear  to 
be  parted  from  the  child!  She  was  his  by 
every  right,  would  he  take  her  with  him? 
But  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  ask, 
though  she  felt  that  Alice  probably  knew. 
Alice,  on  her  part,  had  never  given  that 
matter  a  moment's  thought;  she  supposed, 
of  course,  the  child  would  be  left  with  Mary. 
The  thing  that  filled  Alice's  mind  was: 
"What  had  happened  between  Winthrope 
and  Mary?"  She  pleaded  with  her  eyes  to 
know,  but  Mary  did  not  look  into  them,  and 
would  not  have  answered  if  she  had.  So 
the  two  kept  on  the  surface,  with  its  clut- 
terings  of  the  material,  and  neither  visioned 
the  heart  of  the  other.  Before  they  real- 
ized the  passage  of  time,  Libbie  Lee  was 


Departures  273 

running  in  at  the  door  with  Winthrope 
Arnold  behind  her. 

Winthrope  was  carrying  a  new  leather 
suit-case  in  one  hand,  and  a  capacious 
satchel  in  the  other,  both  of  which  he  smil- 
ingly put  down  at  Alice's  chair  and  said, 
"I  knew  you  had  not  traveled  lately,  Alice, 
and  I  brought  these  in  for  you,  that  you 
might  start  off  in  style. " 

"They  are  lovely,  I  know,"  she  said, 
accepting  them  in  the  spirit  of  the  giver, 
"and  I  can't  thank  you  enough.  I  had 
thought  what  I  would  do  about  something 
in  which  to  carry  my  things,  and  I  knew  of 
nothing  we  had  that  would  hold  them,  ex- 
cept a  beautiful  old  carpet-bag  that  belonged 
to  some  of  our  ancestors;  and  I  was  afraid 
you  might  abandon  me  at  the  very  start 
when  you  saw  that ! ' ' 

"Well,  I  might!"  he  laughed  in  return. 

This  little  passage  set  the  key-note  for  the 
departure.  Each  tried  to  keep  up  some  sur- 
face gaiety,  and  so  help  to  make  easy  a  thing 
that  was  infinitely  hard  all  around.  Libbie 


274  Uncle  Mary 


Lee  was  in  the  mind  of  each,  and  it  had  be- 
come evident  to  Mary  there  was  no  thought 
of  her  going  at  that  time.  It  must  be  a 
happy  thing  for  her,  this  going  of  Auntie 
Alice  so  far  from  home.  She  was  told  that 
Alice  was  to  have  a  lovely  trip  away,  and  see 
lots  of  things  she  had  never  seen,  but  not  a 
word  was  said  as  to  the  purpose  of  her  go- 
ing. They  did  not  wish  it  talked  about,  in 
the  first  place;  and,  in  the  second  they  did 
not  wish  disappointment  to  come  to  the  child 
if  it  must  come  to  them.  The  Stillwells 
were  the  only  friends  who  knew  the  full  pur- 
pose of  the  trip. 

Inevitably  the  village  had  its  curiosity 
much  aroused,  but  Dr.  Stillwell  had  only  to 
say  in  his  parish  calls  that  Alice  had  been  so 
long  confined  at  home  they  felt  a  trip  away 
would  do  her  good.  Elwood's  sudden  com- 
ing and  going  had  been  hard  for  her,  too. 
And  he  added,  "Of  course  there  is  no  reason 
now,  why  she  should  not  go,  even  though 
travel  for  her  does  involve  the  extra  expense 
of  a  trained  nurse." 


Departures  275 

This  implied  that  there  was  plenty  of 
money  to  spend,  and  the  town  believed  El- 
wood  had  died  rich,  while  Mr.  Stillwell  knew 
nothing,  as  yet,  to  the  contrary.  In  fact 
this  impression  had  had  unusual  confirma- 
tion for  him.  So,  it  was  taken  quite  as  a 
matter  of  course  by  everybody. 

As  for  Winthrope  Arnold  having  come  so 
soon  after  Elwood's  arrival,  he  was  tacitly 
explained  by  all  as  a  friend  of  Elwood's; 
and  his  remaining  for  a  few  days  later,  sim- 
ply meant  friendship  for  the  family,  and, 
perhaps,  attention  to  business  arrangements 
which  Elwood  had  desired.  To  have  heard 
Sophie  Stoneham  talk,  in  fact,  would  have 
been  to  get  a  detailed  account  of  the  whole 
matter  which  was  most  reasonable,  and 
which  would  have  satisfied  the  three,  espe- 
cially concerned,  most  completely,  even 
while  they  marveled  and  laughed  over  her 
ingenuity. 

So  the  arrival  of  the  trained  nurse  the 
morning  after  Winthrope 's  telegram,  and 
the  departure  of  the  big  blue  limousine  a 


276  Uncle  Mary 

few  hours  later,  with  Mary,  Libbie  Lee  and 
Stanley  going  to  Barringer  to  see  Alice  and 
Winthrope  off  on  the  train,  was  without  in- 
cident, apparently.  No  one  was  at  hand, 
however,  to  note  that  Winthrope  held  Mary 
by  a  touch  on  her  arm,  for  a  moment  alone 
in  the  sitting  room  before  they  left  the 
cottage. 

1  'Mary,  may  I  leave  Libbie  Lee  in  your 
charge,  with  everything  just  as  it  has  been, 
till  the  fall  when  Alice  and  I  will  probably 
return?" 

"Certainly,"  returned  Mary. 

And  that  was  all. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

TWO  INNOCENTS  CONSPIRE 

THE  ride  back  from  the  station  held  all 
the  possibilities  of  a  veritable  crucible  for 
Mary  Halsey.  The  separation  from  Alice 
— seeing  her  go  out  from  the  care  and  pro- 
tection that  Mary  had  given  for  so  many 
years — was  in  itself  sufficient  to  try  Mary  to 
the  uttermost.  But  the  word  with  Win- 
thrope  had  been  most  excruciating!  What 
did  he  mean  ? 

She  sank  back  exhausted  from  the  strain 
of  it  all  when  once  in  the  car  and  starting 
for  home.  It  was  well  that  the  children  had 
much  to  chatter  over.  Both  had  traveled, 
and  they  knew  all  about  what  Auntie  Alice 
was  going  to  experience.  So  they  talked  of 
sleepers,  and  the  nice  little  tables  on  which 
folks  ate,  and  the  porters  and  conductors 
and  brakemen  and  engineers!  Each  dis- 

277 


278  Uncle  Mary 

coursed  concerning  the  thing  which  each  had 
observed  with  the  most  emphasis — Stanley 
getting  the  best  of  Libbie  Lee  inevitably  in 
the  end,  because  he  could  go  on  to  ocean  lin- 
ers and  "rickshas"  and  even  African  cool- 
ies! 

Of  all  this  Mary  caught  nothing,  but  the 
unheeded  childish  talk  was  better  for  her 
than  silence,  and  she  relaxed  and  steadied 
under  it,  till  the  chauffeur  saw  nothing  amiss 
when  she  stepped  at  last  from  the  car,  and 
taking  Libbie  Lee's  hand  went  into  the 
brown  cottage  of  her  ancestors,  which  held, 
now,  only  the  echoes  of  her  past. 

The  moment  they  were  inside,  Libbie  Lee 
voiced  the  surprised  feeling  of  both.  She 
ran  to  Mary  and  clung  to  her  knees,  after  a 
moment's  survey  of  the  room. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Mary,  Auntie  Alice's  wheel 
chair  is  gone,  too!"  And  the  little  face 
crumpled  with  sobs. 

That  was  it!  They  had  not  thought 
of  missing  the  wheel  chair — but  it  really 
seemed  to  double  their  sense  of  loss! 


Two  Innocents  Conspire  279 

Mary  held  the  little  girl  tightly  against 
her  breast,  sitting  down  that  she  might  press 
her  closer,  and  for  a  few  minutes  they  joined 
their  tears.  Then  Mary  straightened,  and 
said: 

"Oh,  but  this  won't  do!  We  must  think 
what  a  good  time  Auntie  Alice  is  going  to 
have !  How  lovely  for  her  to  see  new  places 
and  new  people !  Why,  you  and  I  are  act- 
ing just  as  though  we  didn't  want  her  to  go 
— and  we  do,  don't  we?"  she  questioned, 
pulling  up  the  flushed  small  face  and  smil- 
ing into  it.  So,  Libbie  Lee  wiped  her  eyes 
and  smiled  back  through  her  tears — which 
ended  the  shower  for  her. 

Not  so  with  Mary,  of  course ;  but  she  im- 
mediately set  about  making  their  tea-time 
gay  and  instantly  hit  upon  the  thought  of 
having  unexpected  company. 

"Let's  invite  somebody  to  take  tea  with 
us,"  she  cried  in  merry  application  of  kin- 
dergarten methods. 

Libbie  Lee  was  charmed:  "Who,  Uncle 
Mary — can  we  get?"  breathlessly. 


280  Uncle  Mary 

"Well,"  said  Uncle  Mary,  "suppose  we 
invite  Mrs.  Kittie  for  one,"  and  she  reached 
up  to  the  old-fashioned  mantel,  and  brought 
down  an  old-fashioned  china  kittie  which 
had  adorned  it  for  at  least  a  generation. 
She  placed  Mrs.  Kittie  with  a  flourish,  upon 
the  table,  and  then  set  plate,  and  knife  and 
fork  before  her. 

Libbie  Lee  laughed  out;  and  before  they 
got  through,  there  was  a  motley  company  of 
dolls  and  dogs  and  birds  and  chickens,  be- 
side Mrs.  Kittie,  taking  tea  with  them.  They 
had  a  really  hilarious  meal. 

But  the  sense  of  loneliness  and  loss  pressed 
upon  Mary's  spirit  indescribably  when  Lib- 
bie Lee  was  asleep,  and  the  house  full  of  the 
stillness  of  a  sudden  going.  Mary  had  never 
dreamed  how,  during  all  the  hard  years,  her 
taxed  nerves  had  rested  in  Alice's  quiet, 
well-balanced  amiability;  Now  she  began 
to  see  many  things.  She  had  hitherto 
thought  herself  the  one  who  was  serving, 
and  claimed  thereby  unquestioned  author- 
ity; while  Alice,  she  now  realized,  had  also 


Two  Innocents  Conspire  281 

been  serving,  even  though  much  after  the 
dear  fashion  of  those  who  only  wait.  For, 
though  her  willing  hands  helped  what  they 
could  in  the  actual  work,  her  greatest  service 
was  the  anchoring  of  Mary's  soul  in  the  safe, 
sweet  ties  of  human  relationship.  This, 
Mary  now  sensed  with  tender  surprise; 
Alice  had  been  her  other  and  better  self  in 
the  ten  years  of  struggle,  and — how  could 
she,  Mary,  the  strong  one,  have  let  her  go  off 
on  this  hazardous  search  for  health,  alone, 
as  it  were!  There  was  anxious  yearning 
over  Alice  from  day  to  day  that  summer 
which  greatly  chastened  Mary's  spirit. 

Then  there  was  Elwood  to  think  of;  how 
many  years  she  had  hated  him!  She  had 
never  thought  of  him  except  with  the  bitter 
indictment :  had  it  not  been  for  his  desertion 
of  family  interests  she  might  have  realized 
her  brief,  early  dream  of  happiness!  But 
the  bitterness  had  dropped  like  a  mask  when 
she  saw  him  weak  and  spent  by  the  roadside 
that  hot  May  day;  and  the  short  period  of 
ministry  to  his  needs  which  followed  had 


282  Uncle  Mary 

mellowed  into  mature  love  her  latent  affec- 
tion for  her  brother,  giving  her  an  under- 
standing of  his  character  which  had  changed 
the  recollections  of  many  hard  years,  but 
which  left  for  her  an  aching  regret  for 
his  broken  life,  his  unfulfilled  hopes,  that 
hovered  over  her  spirit  in  brooding  memory. 

But  all  this  was  only  the  shadowy  back- 
ground of  the  summer 's  depression  which 
lay  heavily  upon  Mary's  tried  spirit  as  she 
passed  from  the  hot,  fierce  impulses  of  a 
thwarted  youth  out  into  the  open  paths  of 
mature  understanding.  There  was  Win- 
thrope  Arnold.  Her  quickened  conscious- 
ness of  him  was  a  throbbing,  stabbing  reality 
every  moment  of  that  memorable  season. 

What  had  been  her  love  for  him  in  the 
first  place,  with  only  the  record  of  a  few 
weeks'  association  and  one  day  of  inner 
heart  touch  upon  which  she  had  lived  for 
ten  long  years?  It  held  nothing  of  sacri- 
ficial giving ;  it  was,  in  reality,  only  a  thing 
which  had  given  her  fantastic  dreaming  and 
bitter  reactions.  A  really  great  love  would 


Two  Innocents  Conspire  283 

have  beautified  all  her  life.     She  could  ana- 
lyze now,  with  clear,  swift  visioning. 

But,  he  had  come  again  into  her  life, 
bringing  convincing  proof  which  had  made 
Elwood's  last  hours  full  of  everlasting 
peace,  proof  which  had  cleared  from  the 
mist  of  uncertainty  the  little  girl's  relation- 
ship to  them,  and  a  mature  man  of  unusual 
force  and  winning  personality  had  been 
revealed  to  her;  a  man  of  efficiency,  of 
straight-forward,  clean-cut  integrity  in  any 
dealing,  and  a  man  with  the  sure  anchor  of 
reverent  recognition  of  high  obligation  to 
God  and  man  in  his  life.  To  such  a  man  all 
her  starved  womanhood  had  reached  out. 
And  yet,  when  he  had  come  to  her  with  sure- 
ness  of  his  own  love  after  all  the  interven- 
ing years  of  separation,  she  had  met  him 
with  foolish  temporizing!  That  was  what 
she  called  it  now,  with  the  keen  stab  of  re- 
gret upon  her,  and  the  daily  growing  knowl- 
edge of  her  love  for  him — of  the  full  flood 
of  a  mature  woman's  love  that  needed  his 
strength  to  lean  upon,  that  reached  out  for 


284  Uncle  Mary 

his  guidance  and  companionship  in  her  life. 

Oh,  she  did  not  want  her  own  way  any 
longer !  If  she  could  but  rest  in  his  strength 
and  integrity  and  love,  as  she  might  have 
done  had  she  taken  it  when  it  was  freely 
offered  to  her!  This  was  the  vain  cry  of 
Mary's  heart  in  those  summer  days.  And 
it  was  a  cry  that  makes  the  lips  mute,  like 
the  mute  anguish  of  dumb  things  for  their 
mates — a  thing  unfathomable,  holding  with- 
in it  all  the  blessed  heritage  that  the  Maker 
puts  into  life's  dual  completeness. 

Sometimes  the  undercurrent  of  yearning 
would  sing  through  her  consciousness  in  the 
voiceless  cry,  "I  love  him!  I  love  him!  Oh, 
he  will  come  back  to  me!  He  cannot  for- 
sake me  forever!" 

But  only  the  echo  of  his  brief  decision 
came  in  reply : 

"I  will  not  wait  three  years  for  you!" 

And  that  was  what  she  had  demanded  of 
him! 

Mary's  heart  was  a  bruised  reed  that  well- 
nigh  came  to  breaking,  she  thought. 


Two  Innocents  Conspire          285 

But  there  was  a  small  hand  tugging  al- 
ways at  hers  those  summer  days.  "Uncle 
Mary,  aren't  we  going  to  ride?  Can't  we 
go  by  and  get  Stanley?" 

So,  witli  the  agitating  things  of  her  heart 
pressed  well  out  of  sight,  Mary  forced  her- 
helf  to  smile  down  upon  the  child  and  keep 
step  with  childhood  joy. 

This  attitude  towards  Libbie  Lee  set  the 
pace  for  Mary's  summer.  She  gave  herself 
to  the  children  of  the  town.  Her  car  was 
almost  always  full  to  overflowing,  and  she 
took  them  on  picnics  and  long  drives,  and 
taught  them  many  things  of  value  and  inter- 
est. There  were  historical  points  within 
their  reach,  which  were  etched  into  their 
memories  with  interesting  accounts  of  the 
events  in  memory  of  which  they  were  held 
sacred.  And  Mary,  herself,  with  leisure  for 
study  of  things  she  would  pass  on  to  them, 
found  it  an  unceasing  delight. 

She  filled  her  time  full,  that  she  might  not 
think,  from  the  day  of  Alice's  going. 

There  was  a  significant  incident,  of  which 


286  Uncle  Mary 

she  did  not  know,  however.  It  occurred 
only  a  few  days  after  the  journey  of  Win- 
thrope  and  Alice  was  begun,  and  took  place 
when  Mr.  Stillwell  came  into  the  brown  cot- 
tage one  morning  very  early — in  fact  before 
Mary  had  finished  her  kitchen  work. 

" That's  all  right,"  he  said  to  her  at  once, 
as  she  appeared  in  kitchen  apparel.  "I 
know  I'm  disgracefully  early,  but  I  took  a 
notion  for  a  tramp  down  the  road — and  then 
got  tired  as  I  reached  your  gate,  because  I 
wanted  to  see  your  little  girl,"  he  laughed, 
drawing  Libbie  Lee  to  him.  "So,  you  go 
right  along,  Uncle  Mary,  and  leave  us  to 
visit  together." 

He  loved  to  call  her  " Uncle  Mary,"  and 
she  had  also  come  to  love  the  odd  combina- 
tion name,  which  really  marked  the  opening 
of  a  new  life  for  her.  She  smiled  consent, 
her  face  flushed  with  the  warmth  of  a  June 
morning,  which  both  had  agreed  in  a  brief 
passage  on  the  weather,  could  be  hotter  in 
New  England  when  it  really  tried,  than  any- 
where else  on  the  globe — speaking  extrava- 


Two  Innocents  Conspire  287 

gantly !  Her  hair  curled  about  her  face  un- 
der the  moist  air  of  the  kitchen,  and  the  old 
minister  said  in  his  heart ;  * '  She  has  grown 
to  be  as  pretty  as  a  picture!  I  wonder 
why — " 

Then  she  was  back  to  her  work,  and  he 
bent  at  once  to  a  task  which  had  been  set  for 
him. 

He  called  to  Mary,  after  a  few  moments, 
however.  " Uncle  Mary,  we're  going  to  shut 
out  all  your  kitchen  heat,  if  you  don't 
mind."  And,  getting  instant  consent,  he 
closed  the  door  which  led  through  the  hall- 
way back  to  the  kitchen.  Then  he  began 
his  real  task  with  Libbie  Lee  on  his  knee. 

"Little  girl,  you  remember  that  your 
father  asked  you  to  get  a  paper  from  the  old 
secretary,  here,  before  he  left  us,  don't 
you?" 

Libbie  Lee  nodded.  Then  she  sat  up, 
glad  to  be  able  to  talk  about  it.  "Yes,  he 
did,  and  I  was  so  scared!  But  he  said  it 
was  all  right,  because  I  was  helping  him  to 
throw  away  Uncle  Mary's  chains!" 


288  Uncle  Mary 


The  minister  laughed,  "So  you  were. 
And  he  wanted  you  to  help  me  to  complete 
the  job,  so  that  you  and  he  could  be  together 
in  it.  Now  I  have  here  the  nice  paper  that 
he  wanted  you  to  put  in  the  place  of  the 
'chains/  so  I  am  putting  it  in  your  hands, 
and  we  will  go  to  the  old  secretary  and  put 
it  in  the  tin  box  in  place  of  the  bad  paper 
which  was  there  -so  long,  making  trouble  for 
Uncle  Mary."  He  was  carrying  her  in  his 
arms  as  he  spoke,  pressed  the  brass  knob 
which  opened  the  doors,  and  then  bent  back 
the  lid  of  the  old  tin  box,  so  there  was  noth- 
ing for  the  little  hands  to  do,  but  lay  the 
paper  carefully  in.  The  child  did  it  very  so- 
berly. Then,  when  they  turned  about  and 
sat  down  again,  she  said  : 

"  Father  told  me  not  to  tell  anybody  what 
I  had  done,  unless  Uncle  Mary  got  very  — 
very  troubled,"  she  hesitated  in  trying  to 
make  it  very  exact,  "and  then  I  might  tell 
her." 

Her  listener  murmured  under  his  breath, 
"Halsey  blood  fighting  to  the  last!"  But 


Two  Innocents  Conspire  289 

he  said  to  her,  "That  is  just  what  your 
father  told  me  he  said  to  you,"  making  her 
feel  it  was  very  nice  to  be  sharing  the  secret 
with  somebody — especially  with  Mr.  Still- 
well,  whom  she  loved  so  much. 

The  secret  had,  indeed,  been  a  little  bur- 
densome to  the  child — when  she  thought  of  it 
— which  was  always  when  she  was  alone  in 
sight  of  the  old  secretary;  and  then  in- 
stantly she  had  run  away  from  its  sight. 
But  now  she  would  never  feel  that  way 
again,  since  Mr.  Stillwell  knew  all  about  it, 
too. 

After  their  secret  task  had  been  done  they 
visited  together,  talking  of  far  different 
things  and  laughing  aloud  at  times,  till 
Mary  appeared,  her  kitchen  apron  laid  aside 
and  a  proposition  to  make  to  them : 

" Let's  go  for  a  ride!  I  think  that  is  a 
great  deal  better  than  a  tramp,  this  hot 
morning!" 

Mr.  Stillwell  hadn't  the  least  disposition 
to  disagree  with  her,  and  so  the  car  was  soon 
off  on  the  road,  with  all  the  Stillwells  com- 


290  Uncle  Mary 

f ortably  placed  within  it,  and  the  air  lovely 
to  skim  through  in  the  rush  of  a  smooth- 
running  motor. 

"What  do  you  hear  from  Alice?"  was 
Grander  Stillwell's  first  question,  after  they 
were  settled. 

"She  is  improving!"  cried  Mary.  "She 
has  stood  on  her  feet  for  several  minutes  at 
a  time,  and  the  doctor  is  confident  that  she 
will  walk!" 

"How  beautiful!"  they  chorused. 

Indeed  Alice's  letters  told  a  story  of  tri- 
umph all  through  the  summer :  first  she  had 
stood  on  her  feet ;  next  she  had  really  taken 
a  few  steps  with  the  nurse  right  at  hand — 
and  then  she  was  walking!  Letters  had 
come  frequently  from  the  first,  and  the  life 
that  Alice  was  leading  was  most  amazing  to 
Mary.  She  was  going  to  places — to  hotels 
and  restaurants  for  lunch  and  dinners;  to 
lectures,  to  concerts  and  places  of  amuse- 
ment from  the  very  first.  Winthrope  saw 
to  it  that  her  experiences  should  bring  a 
complete  revelation  for  her  from  the  mo- 


Two  Innocents  Conspire  291 

ment  that  she  left  Sunfield.  Not  that  he 
ever  wrote  about  it.  Not  a  line  came  to 
Mary  from  him.  But  Libbie  Lee  got  letters 
from  him  regularly,  and  Mary  had  taught 
her  how  to  answer  them.  Alice,  herself, 
told  constantly  of  his  kindness  and  care  of 
her. 

Was  it  not  inevitable  that  Mary's  heart 
should  question  ?  He  had  said  he  would  not 
give  her  (Mary)  three  years,  and  never  an 
intimate  word  had  he  spoken  or  written  to 
her  since!  If  Alice  really  got  well  and 
could  walk  again,  free  and  whole,  much 
might  happen — and  she  had  always  been  so 
much  more  attractive  and  lovable  than 
Mary !  What  chance  would  be  left  for  her, 
with  or  without  three  years  more  of  strug- 
gle ?  Winthrope  and  Alice  both  loved  Lib- 
bie Lee — they  would  take  her — and  she — 
Oh,  life,  joy,  would  indeed  be  at  an  end  for 
her! 

Once  she  had  longed  to  have  the  child 
alone.  Now,  she  had  it,  and  daily  associa- 
tions with  the  little  one,  depending  on  her 


292  Uncle  Mary 

for  everything — joy,  love  and  mothering, 
were  very  precious,  but  at  the  same  time 
pregant  .with,  suffering  as  she  thought  of 
losing  her. 

Such  a  summer  it  was  indeed !  It  dragged 
endlessly  along  for  'Mary's  heart,  and  flew 
from  under  her  flying  feet — for  was  she  not 
making  it  a  summer  of  delight  for  the  chil- 
dren of  Sunfield? 

She  was  learning  to  suffer  and  smile;  to 
hear  burdens  and  yet  to  serve  joyfully. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

JOY  ARRIVES  BUT  TROUBLE  LINGERS 

TIME  does  not  halt,  whether  driven  either 
by  the  reins  of  joy  or  sorrow,  or  by  the 
jerky,  harrowing  combination  of  both.  This 
truth  Mary  Halsey  discovered  as  mid-sum- 
mer turned  to  late  summer  days,  and  they 
again  merged  into  the  alternate  crisp  air 
and  hazy  dreaming  of  September;  then 
again  as  the  full  autumn  touch  of  October 
came  upon  the  hills  about  Sunfield,  in  a 
glory  of  red  and  gold;  and,  finally,  when 
this  beautiful  panorama  was  at  the  point  of 
whirling  off  in  the  hurry  scurry  of  brisk, 
warning  winds !  It  was  just  at  this  transi- 
tion moment,  when  the  glory  of  nature  was 
ready  at  a  touch  to  sink  into  oblivion,  that 
a  letter  came  from  Alice,  saying  they  would 
leave  for  home  at  once! 

Mary  read  the  letter  in  the  morning,  but 

293 


294:  Uncle  Mary 


she  could  not  bring  herself  to  tell  Libbie  Lee 
until  afternoon,  and  in  the  meantime  the 
two  had  done  many  things  while  Mary 
adjusted  herself.  Adjusted  herself  to  the 
joy  of  seeing  Alice  walking  about  once 
more  ?  Was  not  that  a  thing  she  could  take 
at  once  into  her  grateful  heart  without  res- 
ervation? She  was  ashamed,  humiliated 
over  her  mixed  feelings !  Then,  in  defense, 
she  analyzed  carefully;  and,  with  the  justice 
which  marked  the  old  Puritans  from  whom 
she  sprang,  she  acknowledged  that  there  was 
joy,  and  joy  only  in  her  heart  for  the  res- 
toration of  her  sister.  This  helped  her  self- 
respect. 

But,  Oh,  with  the  realization  of  this  glory 
of  blessing,  was  there  not  to  be  the  flitting 
of  all  the  red  and  gold  of  hope  for  her,  and 
a  long  winter  of  life  begun  ? 

Libbie  Lee  was  at  play  in  the  yard,  and 
Mary  sat  alone  in  the  living  room,  where 
she  and  Alice  had  spent  so  many  monoto- 
nous years  together ;  and,  under  the  spell  of 
many  memories  clustered  there,  she  at  last 


Joy  Arrives  but  Trouble  Lingers     295 

broke  down  hi  a  quick  rain  of  tears.  Of 
course  it  was  just  at  this  moment  that  Lib- 
bie  Lee  appeared,  for  Fate  so  chooses,  al- 
ways, that  some  one  shall  bear  witness 
to  the  rare  yielding  of  a  self-contained 
woman. 

Libbie  Lee  had  never  seen  Uncle  Mary 
really  cry,  though  their  tears  had  mingled 
for  a  moment  when  Alice  left  them.  This 
was  different.  Full  of  joy  herself,  she 
suddenly  came  upon  Uncle  Mary  in  deep, 
unexplained  distress.  The  child  stood 
as  though  held  rigid.  Then  she  remem- 
bered ! 

"Uncle  Mary,"  she  said,  going  slowly 
toward  Mary,  "are  you — troubled?" 

Mary  could  not  answer,  her  throat  was 
so  unmanageable. 

Libbie  Lee  paused  a  little  distance  from 
her,  speechless  again  for  a  moment.  Then 
she  said  carefully: 

"Father  told  me  if  ever  I  saw  you  troubled 
that  I  must  tell  you  something." 

Astonishment  at  the  child's  manner  and 


296  Uncle  Mary 


words  acted  quickly  upon  Mary's  emotions. 
She  controlled  herself  immediately,  and 
asked,  "What  do  you  mean?" 

"That  was  what  father  said;  if  you  were 
troubled  to  tell  you  something." 

"Tell  me  what?"  Mary  was  rapidly  re- 
covering vigor  of  manner. 

"But,  are  you  troubled,  Uncle  Mary?" 
And  the  child  still  stood  a  bit  away. 

"Yes,  dear,  or  you  wouldn't  have  found 
me  so  foolish." 

"Then  I  can  tell  you,"  said  the  little  girl, 
with  a  look  of  real  relief.  "Father  asked 
me  to  get  a  tin  box  right  out  of  this  big, 
high  sec'tary  and  I  did,  and  he  opened  it 
and  took  out  a  paper,  and  he  said  that  paper 
was  your  'chains,'  and  we  were  going  to 
throw  them  away,  and — " 

But  she  was  breathless  for  a  moment  with 
the  rush  of  thought  and  words. 

Then,  Mary,  with  her  own  mind  rapidly 
clearing  under  this  strange  revelation, 
reached  out  and  drew  the  little  girl  to  her. 

"Now,  take  time,"  she  said,  "and  tell  me 


Joy  Arrives  but  Trouble  Lingers    297 

all  about  it  when  you  have  rested  a  bit.  We 
don't  have  to  hurry." 

Libbie  Lee  instantly  relaxed,  and  with  her 
arms  about  Mary's  neck,  she  went  on: 
"  Auntie  Alice  told  me  your  chains  were  in 
there  when  I  first  came,  but  she  said  for  me 
to  never  open  the  doors  and  look  in  there, 
or  tell  you  I  knew  the  chains  were  there." 

More  amazement  on  Mary's  part,  but  she 
was  cool,  and  the  little  girl  went  on  again: 
"I  told  father  what  Auntie  Alice  had  said, 
and  then  he  said  that  was  what  he  wanted  to 
do,  was  to  throw  your  chains  away — though 
he  said  they  weren't  really  chains  at  all — 
just  a  paper.  He  said  it  was  all  right  for 
me  to  open  the — sec'tary"  (that  was  a  very 
troublesome  word)  "if  he  told  me  to,  and  so 
I  did — but  I  just  looked  back  at  him  on  his 
bed  every  minute,  I  was  so  scared!" 

Mary  held  her  close. 

"He  told  me  it  must  be  a  secret  just  for 
him  and  me,  unless  I  saw  you  troubled  some 
time."  She  paused  a  moment,  and  then 
hurried  on  excitedly:  "I  nearly  forgot! 


After  father  went  away,  and  Auntie  Alice 
and  everybody  went  away,  but  you  and  me, 
Mr.  Stillwell  came  here  one  morning,  and 
he  and  I  put  a  paper  back  in  the  tin  box. 
Mr.  Stillwell  said  it  was  a  nice  paper,  not 
an  ugly  one  like  the  other,  and  so  I  didn't 
mind  putting  it  in  a  bit.  He  said,  too,  for 
me  to  do  just  what  father  had  told  me,  and 
that  if  I  didn't  ever  see  you  troubled  like 
father  said,  that  you  would  find  the  paper, 
yourself,  soon." 

Mary  put  the  child  down,  her  hands 
trembling,  and  at  once  opened  the  old  sec- 
retary door,  taking  out  the  tin  box  that  had 
held  family  papers  of  any  importance  for 
two  generations. 

Sure  enough  there  lay  a  fresh  paper! 
Libbie  Lee  crowded  close  to  see.  " That's 
It,"  she  cried. 

Mary  opened  the  paper  and  a  small  Bar- 
ringer  bank  book,  showing  a  goodly  amount 
on  deposit  in  her  name  was  revealed,  while 
the  paper  itself  proved  to  be  a  receipt  for 
the  full  amount  of  a  mortgage  on  the  brown 


Joy  Arrives  but  Trouble  Lingers     299 

cottage !  The  old  tyrant  which  had  so  long 
threatened  and  menaced  was  indeed  really 
gone  forever!  A  needless  household  skele- 
ton in  actual  presence  it  had  been,  but  when 
the  mortgage  deed  was  executed,  Mr.  Halsey 
had  insisted  on  retaining  a  copy  which 
should  show  payments  and  corresponding 
receipts.  Thus  from  the  old  secretary  it 
had  constantly  reached  out  a  sinister  hand 
and  gripped  her  with  its  fetters. 

But  now  it  was  gone — the  family  obliga- 
tion had  been  met — she  might  have  accepted 
Winthrope!  She  might  yet  accept  him, 
but— 

Her  emotions  were  many. 

It  was  like  Elwood — like  a  Halsey — to 
want  to  do  the  right  thing,  but  not  to  be 
caught  at  it!  To  make  reparation  for  a 
fault,  but  not  to  acknowledge  it !  Once  hav- 
ing taken  a  position  on  a  matter,  it  was  like 
moving  one  of  the  granite  hills  to  stir  a 
Halsey  from  it,  even  though  he  realized 
later  that  the  position  was  wrong! 

Then  she  took  thought  of  herself — "I  will 


300  Uncle  Mary 


wring  that  stubborn  thing  out  of  me!" 
Yes,  she  would — but  it  was  too  late  to 
bring  her  happiness!  She  had  let  it  turn 
Winthrope  away  from  her!  The  fact  was 
firmly  fixed  in  her  mind  by  now  that  Win- 
thrope Arnold  had  transferred  his  affection 
of  so  many  long  years,  from  herself  to  her 
sister  Alice — to  this  Alice  who  was  walking, 
and  quite  herself  once  more! 

Thus  there  came  a  moment  of  tragic  inner 
turmoil  and  intense  suffering  as  she  stood 
holding  the  paper  and  the  little  bank  book 
in  her  hands.  Then  her  eyes  fell  upon  the 
little  girl  looking  up  at  her,  still  excited  and 
uncertain.  She  stooped  and  took  the  child 
in  her  arms,  folding  her  close. 

"That  was  a  lovely  thing  you  and  father 
did.  I  am  so  glad  the  old  chains  are  gone, 
and  that  you  and  father  took  them  away 
for  me !  Now,  you  and  I  will  just  keep  the 
secret  between  us,  and  not  tell  anybody  else, 
except  Auntie  Alice,  and  I  will  tell  her  when 
I  think  best.  You  see  we  are  a  family,  now, 
and  families  have  things  that  they  love  to 


Joy  Arrives  but  Trouble  Lingers     301 

keep  just  among  themselves — like  birds  in 
a  nest.  They  don't  mind  people  looking  at 
them,  and  seeing  where  they  live,  but  they 
don't  want  folks  to  come  to  their  nest  and 
find  out  their  family  secrets!" 

In  their  kindergarten  methods  Libbie  Lee 
had  learned  all  about  the  ways  of  birds. 
So  the  secret  had  passed  from  an  awesome 
thing  to  something  nice  and  natural. 

Later  Mary  talked  over  the  matter  with 
Mr.  Stillwell,  and  he  said  that  Elwood  told 
him  that  was  what  he  came  back  home  for. 
He  wanted  to  pay  off  the  mortgage  entirely, 
returning  the  money  Mary  had  paid  on  it, 
and  the  amount  deposited  in  her  name  was 
intended  to  more  than  cover  this.  He  had 
not  meant  to  trouble  her  and  Alice,  but  was 
going  to  get  into  the  house  at  night  as  he 
used  to  when  a  boy,  take  the  old  copy  of  the 
mortgage  and  then  mail  back  the  receipt  and 
bank-book  anonymously.  Staunch  old 
family  principles  had  found  generous 
growth  in  Elwood. 

For   Mary   this   whole    matter    brought 


302  Uncle  Mary 

much  brooding  thought  during  the  two  days 
that  must  pass  before  Alice  was  with  them 
again.  But,  in  spite  of  this,  those  two  days 
passed  rapidly.  The  cottage  was  freshly 
furnished  for  the  wanderer's  return.  Mag- 
gie Oldham  was  there  to  help,  and  things 
went  well,  so  that  Mary  looked  it  over  with 
practical  satisfaction  (and  an  inward  cry 
for  steadiness)  as  she  turned  the  key  in  the 
door,  took  Libbie  Lee's  hand  and  went  to 
meet  the  train  on  which  Alice — and,  perhaps 
Winthrope,  too,  was  to  come.  Nothing  had 
been  said  as  to  whether  he  was  to  come  or 
not.  She  prayed  that  he  would  not!  She 
would  like  a  chance  to  take  things  in  sec- 
tions, if  she  might! 

Calling  to  Libbie  Lee,  who  was  dancing 
about  the  yard  in  the  joyful  thought  of  see- 
ing Auntie  Alice  once  more,  she  hurried  to 
the  car,  though  they  had  abundant  time  at 
their  disposal. 

What  a  strange  experience  it  is  to  see  one 
beloved  and  long  given  over  to  helplessness, 
come  walking  forth  in  newness  of  life !  As 


Joy  Arrives  but  Trouble  Lingers     303 

though,  indeed,  one  had  come  from  the  dead ! 
Even  Libbie  Lee  felt  the  awe  of  it,  as  Alice 
stepped  from  the  train  and  stood  a  moment 
in  the  vestibule,  smiling  down  at  them! 

Then  Winthrope  appeared  and  helped  her 
down  the  steps,  quite  as  he  might  have  done 
with  any  healthy  woman,  and  the  nurse  fol- 
lowed immediately  behind. 

The  greetings  were  quickly  over  with 
glistening  eyes  for  everybody  but  Libbie 
Lee,  and  hers  were  outshining  them  all,  with 
no  tears  to  mist  them,  while  her  exclama- 
tions of  joy  and  wonder  made  words  un- 
necessary from  the  older  folks,  as  they  made 
their  way  quickly  to  the  blue  car  which  stood 
in  waiting,  and  started  for  home,  leaving 
the  trained  nurse  in  Barringer  to  take  the 
next  train  back  to  New  York,  as  she  was  no 
longer  needed. 

There  came  another  speechless  moment 
when  Alice  stepped  into  the  brown  cottage 
for  the  first  time  in  more  than  ten  years! 
How  Alice  and  Mary  would  ever  have 
passed  those  first  few  moments  they  did  not 


304  Uncle  Mary 

know,  had  it  not  been  for  Libbie  Lee,  again. 
Her  tongue  was  ready : 

"  Auntie  Alice,  what  did  you  do  with  your 
wheel  chair  ?"  The  child  had  fully  expected 
to  see  it  when  Alice  came,  even  though  she 
knew  it  was  no  longer  needed.  She  couldn't 
imagine  Alice  without  its  being  somewhere 
in  evidence! 

"Why,  dearie/'  said  Alice,  drawing  the 
child  close  into  her  arms  as  she  sat  down, 
"you  didn't  think  I  would  be  bringing  that 
old  chair  along  when  my  feet  and  my  back 
and,  I  hope,  my  head,  are  absolutely  all 
right  f" 

"No — o,"  said  Libbie  Lee,  doubtfully. 
Then,  with  the  insistent  curiosity  of  chil- 
dren, she  persisted:  "But  what  did  you  do 
with  it?" 

In  her  little  mind  it  had  been  too  much  a 
part  of  Alice  to  be  carelessly  thrown  aside. 

Understanding,  at  last,  in  an  intuitive 
way  Alice  Halsey  had,  she  said  earnestly: 
"I  will  tell  you  what  I  did  with  it.  I  had 
it  sent  to  a  hospital,  where  lots  of  sick  folks 


Joy  Arrives  but  Trouble  Lingers     305 

go,  so  that  if  anybody  needed  it  at  any  time, 
it  would  be  right  there  for  them  to  get  into 
and  ride  around  as  I  used  to  do." 

This  was  perfectly  satisfactory,  and  by 
this  time  the  older  folks  had  fallen  into 
natural  ways. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  VICTOR 

Two  days  passed  with  Winthrope  again 
installed  at  Sam  and  Maggie  Oldham's,  but 
spending  his  time  in  the  brown  cottage. 

Winthrope  and  Alice  seemed  on  easy 
terms  of  intimacy,  to  say  the  least.  There 
was  ready  response,  quick  understanding 
and  sympathy  between  them.  And,  as  Alice 
went  about  the  house  with  the  old  grace  of 
movement  (which  the  wheel  chair  could 
never  quite  obliterate)  fully  restored,  and 
clad,  as  she  was  always  in  modern,  attrac- 
tive raiment,  Mary  really  could  not  see  how 
Winthrope  could  keep  from  falling  in  love 
with  her !  So  her  premonitions  were  stoutly 
confirmed  by  observation.  The  two  had, 
naturally,  much  in  common  with  the  six 
months  of  close  association  and  incidents  of 
travel  to  talk  over. 

306 


A  Victor  307 

A  story  of  tragedy  of  the  heart  may  be 
very  harrowing  in  print,  but  usually  in  real 
life  the  victim  goes  about  her  accustomed 
ways  of  life  with  little  or  no  evidence  to 
mark  her  manner.  So  Mary,  after  her  sum- 
mer of  disquiet,  and  of  activity  for  others, 
having  acquired  some  of  the  poise  of  cour- 
ageous living,  met  her  climax  with  no  show 
of  white  feathers. 

When  Alice  and  Winthrope  talked  of  in- 
teresting things  seen  and  heard,  and  she  and 
Libbie  Lee  had  listened  with  proper  show 
of  interest,  Mary  turned  to  Libbie  Lee, 
gayly: 

' 'They  think  we  have  had  no  fun  at  all, 
do  they  not,  little  girl  ?  Well,  we  will  just 
tell  them  we  have!  Didn't  we  go  through 
the  Mohawk  Trail,  and  see  the  prettiest 
mountains  and  valleys,  and  Indian  relics 
and  wonders  of  all  sorts?  And  then  down 
to  old  Plymouth,  and  over  to  Concord1?" 

Libbie  Lee's  eyes  sparkled  and  she  added, 
breathlessly,  her  happy  childish  recollec- 
tions of  the  summer  till  Winthrope  seized 


308  Uncle  Mary 


her  and  swung  her  to  his  shoulder  in  laugh- 
ing applause;  then  assured  her  that  next 
time  there  was  any  traveling  done,  she  was 
going  to  be  one  of  the  party ! 

Could  there  be  needed  any  further  con- 
firmation of  Mary's  worst  fears !  Alice  and 
Winthrope  would  leave  for  the  west,  ere 
long,  and  take  Libbie  Lee  with  them! 

It  was  a  most  wearing  undercurrent  to  be 
carrying  about  with  cheerful  face  and  man- 
ner, and  yet  the  old  decree  that  "the  bruised 
reed  He  will  not  break  and  the  smoking  flax 
He  will  not  quench,"  holds  good.  And  so 
it  was  at  the  moment  when  Mary  felt  en- 
durance was  no  longer  possible — when  she 
cried  out  from  her  soul  in  prayer  that  Win- 
thrope might  go  away — if  for  only  a  few 
days  that  she  might  have  respite  and  hear 
the  story  from  Alice  alone — when  Win- 
thrope said  to  her  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
second  day,  as  they  stood  a  moment  to- 
gether : 

"Mary,  may  I  have  a  talk  with  you, 
alone  ?" 


A  Victor  309 

The  reed  then  was  even  more  deeply 
bruised  and  the  flax  gave  but  a  faint  flicker, 
for  of  course,  he  was  going  to  tell  her  the 
story  of  Alice  and  himself! 

Her  lips  moved,  without  volition,  in  the 
one  word — ' '  Certainly. ' ' 

1  'Good!"  he  returned,  for  the  stress  she 
was  under  by  this  time  was  plainly  percep- 
tible to  his  keen  eyes,  and  he  responded  with 
the  commonplace  heartiness  of  one  business 
man  to  another. 

After  this  he  went  on  casually,  "  Alice 
wants  to  go  over  and  show  herself  to  the 
Stillwells;  she  can  take  Libbie  Lee  in  the 
car,  and  that  will  give  us  the  opportunity  we 
want." 

"Not  we!  Oh,  no!"  Mary's  heart  cried 
again,  but  her  lips  were  silent. 

It  was  only  a  few  moments  later  that 
Alice  and  Libbie  Lee  were  started  off  on 
their  trip,  a  few  moments  of  natural  activity 
that  were  most  welcome  to  Mary ;  and  then, 
she  and  Winthrope  sat  alone  in  the  little 
brown  cottage  as  they  had  before. 


310  Uncle  Mary 

Winthrope  Arnold  did  not  know  the  word 
delay.  He  always  plunged  at  once  to  the 
heart  of  things. 

"Mary,  I  have  come  again,  after  six  more 
months.  I  said  I  would  not  wait  three 
years,  and  I  will  not,  but  I  have  given  you 
six  months  to  think  it  over.  Now,  what  is 
to  be  my  answer?" 

It  is  a  marvelous  thing  about  that  bruised 
reed ;  it  does  not  break,  and  yet  how  does  it 
ever  bear  the  first  new  thrill  of  returning 
life  ?  And  the  smoking  flax,  how  can  it  en- 
dure that  first  bright  thrust  of  flame  again  ? 

Perhaps  Mary  Halsey  can  tell.  Her  biog- 
rapher cannot. 

A  trembling  smile  and  a  sudden  rush  of 
tears  were  the  outward  evidences  in  Mary's 
case,  while  she  put  both  hands  out  to 
him  and  he  gathered  them  against  his 
breast. 

"Mary,  Mary,  is  it  true — after  all  these 
years?"  he  whispered. 

Her  answer  seemed  entirely  satisfactory. 

After  a  time,  Winthrope  turned  to  her 


NOW,    WHAT    IS   TO   BE    MY   ANSWER? 


A  Victor  311 

with  a  note  of  triumph  in  his  voice,  and  the 
light  of  a  conqueror  in  his  eyes : 

"Mary  Halsey,  you  are  mastered  at  last! 
It  has  taken  more  than  ten  years  to  do  it, 
but  it  is  done!" 

Mary  admitted  it,  but  the  modern  woman 
is  chary  of  the  word  "master,"  and  a 
sparkle  of  humor  came  to  her  eyes,  still 
over-bright  from  tears  and  joy,  and  she 
added :  "But  I  must  tell  you  that  the  matter 
which  stood  in  my  way  last  spring  is  no 
longer  there!" 

No  conqueror  likes  the  glory  of  his  vic- 
tory dimmed,  so  Winthrope  immediately 
demanded:  "How?  Why?" 

"Because  what  was  once  in  the  way,  is  no 
longer  in  the  way,"  she  answered  smilingly; 
and  she  really  had  not  the  slightest  inten- 
tion of  telling  him  what  had  stood  in  the 
way. 

But  a  real  victor  is  very  hard  to  down, 
and  Winthrope  was  a  man  of  determina- 
tion. His  methods  were  fair,  under  the 
circumstances,  so  need  not  be  detailed,  and 


312  Uncle  Mary 


they  were  appealing  as  well ;  so,  in  the  end, 
Mary  found  herself  telling  what  she  had 
supposed  must  be  forever  kept  in  the  Halsey 
family,  no  matter  how  many  husbands  or 
wives  there  might  be.  For  it  was  thus  she 
had  been  brought  up,  with  all  the  staunch 
unalterability  of  New  England  rearing. 
Family  matters  were  strictly  for  family 
knowledge  and  discussion. 

There  had  been  a  mortgage  on  the  brown 
cottage,  was  the  first  admission — which  was 
like  confession  of  a  family  disgrace.  No 
properly  prudent  people  should  have  to 
mortgage  their  home. 

"Well,  couldn't  I  have  paid  it  off?"  he 
demanded. 

"Yes,  but  it  was  not  your  obligation. 
Father  would  not  have  thought  it  right  for 
you  to  doit." 

"And  so  you  would  have  had  me — and 
you — wait  our  happiness  while  you 
spent  three  more  years  working  to  pay  this 
off?" 

"Yes — that  was  what  I  thought  in  the 


A  Victor  313 

spring — but,  Winthrope,  I  must  tell  you 
that  I  would  not  feel  so  now,  even  if  it  were 
not  paid  off.  I  have  dropped  some  more 
shackles  since  then.  I  have  really  learned 
better,  since  then,  how  to  live  without  hard 
and  fast  lines  to  bind  me  down.  Circum- 
stances may  alter  many  cases." 

"Now,  Mary,"  he  exclaimed,  joyfully, 
"you  may  tell  me  anything  and  I  will  not 
quarrel  with  you!  You  are  the  Mary  I 
loved  so  long  ago,  with  your  young  heart 
open  and  full  of  the  promise  of  life — and  I 
believe  in  my  soul  that  you  are  prettier  than 
you  ever  were!" 

After  this — and  a  few  moments'  passage 
— Maiy  said  quickly,  "I  want  to  tell  it  all 
to  you — the  whole  story  of  our  family 
tragedy,  which  has  affected  you  as  well  as 
us. 

"You  know  that  beautiful  visit  I  made  in 
the  south — and  how  I  met  you — and  that 
wonderful  day  at  the  picnic  when  we  really 
found  each  other  and  were  bound  for  life, 
though  there  were  no  vows  or  promises. 


314  Uncle  Mary 

Well,  I  came  home  full  of  hope  and  joy,  for 
I  knew  you  would  follow  in  time. 

"It  was  only  a  few  weeks  after  this,  when 
a  letter  came  to  my  father  from  his  brother 
John  over  in  Connecticut.  This  brother 
was  a  thoroughly  impractical  man,  vision- 
ary and  ineffective.  The  letter  said  he  had 
gone  deeply  in  debt — as  it  seemed  to  him 
and  to  us  at  that  time.  He  appealed  to 
father  for  help.  He  had  the  Halsey  dread 
of  debt,  and  felt  it  must  be  paid  at  once. 
My  father  agreed  with  him,  and  instantly 
said  to  Elwood,  Alice  and  myself, — Mother 
had  been  gone  many  years,  you  know — that 
we  must  raise  the  money  and  pay  the  debt. 
Now,  New  England  farmers  do  not,  as  a 
rule,  get  rich,  and  all  father  had  been  able 
to  do  was  to  keep  us  properly  fed  and 
clothed,  in  school,  and  a  mortgage  off  the 
brown  cottage  which  had  been  his  inheri- 
tance. Alice  and  I  each  had  the  treat  of  a 
trip  away  in  our  girlhood;  that  was  all 
the  luxury  we  ever  had.  You  know  of 
mine. 


A  Victor  315 

"Now,  to  our  utmost  awe  and  dismay, 
father  said :  '  The  cottage  and  farm  must  be 
mortgaged  to  pay  this  debt  in  the  Halsey 
name/  This  was  final,  crushing  though  it 
was,  for  Alice  and  me;  but  not  so  with  El- 
wood.  He  at  once  demurred.  He  said  it 
was  not  just,  it  was  not  our  debt.  I  need 
not  tell  all  that  was  said.  It  is  enough  for 
you  to  know  that  Elwood  and  father  quar- 
reled— Oh,  it  was  terrible,  I  had  never 
imagined  such  a  thing!  It  ended  with  El- 
wood  declaring  he  would  leave  and  never 
come  back  if  that  burden  was  put  upon  the 
family.  As  father  was  immovable,  and 
Elwood  was  twenty-one,  he  went — and  you 
know  the  rest. 

"It  killed  father — the  quarrel,  and  the 
pressure  of  the  debt  together.  It  also  killed 
Uncle  John,  I  must  say,  for  he  was  not 
strong  and  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  the 
burden  he  had  put  upon  us.  So  he  expiated 
fully.  When  Elwood  was  gone  I  knew  Alice 
and  I  would  have  to  help  father  lift  the 
mortgage,  and  when  I  met  you,  all  unex- 


316  Uncle  Mary 

pectedly  on  the  road  that  day,  coming  to  our 
house,  there  was  nothing  for  me  to  do,  as  I 
saw  it,  but  send  you  at  once  away  with  no 
promise,  and  hope  dead  within  my  heart  at 
seventeen. 

"This  would  really  seem  enough,  but  is  it 
not  Shakespeare  who  says,  'One  woe  doth 
tread  upon  another's  heels,  so  fast  they  fol- 
low?' They  trod  right  upon  one  another's 
heels  for  me,  anyway.  It  was  not  a  week 
after  father's  death  till  Alice  fell  from  a 
step-ladder  and  was  helpless!  Then,  of 
course,  I  was  tied  here  with  almost  no  op- 
portunity to  make  a  living,  to  say  nothing 
of  paying  off  a  mortgage.  But  we  denied 
ourselves  everything;  I  went  out  to  sew  in 
the  village  all  I  could,  and  Alice  and  I  made 
children's  dresses  for  the  stores  at  Bar- 
ringer  between  times.  And  while  I  did 
these  things,  I  hated  Elwood  and  I  let  my 
soul  shrivel  to  a  degree  that  makes  me  shud- 
der now." 

He  folded  her  close  in  answer;  then  said 
with  vigor. 


A  Victor  317 

"That  is  all  over  now.  We  must 
never  think  of  it  again!  A  new  day 
is  here,  and  life  beckons  us." 

She  told  him  then  in  blushing  admission, 
how  day-dreams  of  him  had  been  the  only 
thing  that  had  lit  up  those  past  years. 
"They  were  too  foolish  to  tell  you  of  now, 
but  some  day  I  will,"  she  said. 

"There  is  one  thing  more,  though,  to  tell 
you  now,"  she  went  on  again;  "Elwood 
paid  off  that  mortgage  to  the  last  farthing 
and  more  besides!  But,"  and  she  smiled, 
"he  was  still  too  much  of  a  Halsey  to  want 
to  tell  me,  so  he  had  Libbie  Lee  get  the 
paper  for  him  as  he  lay  bed-fast,  and  then 
turned  it  over  to  Mr.  Stillwell  with  the 
money  to  cancel  it — and  to  much  more  than 
reimburse  me  for  what  I  had  already  paid 
on  it.  I  did  not  find  this  out  until  after  I 
had  given  you  your  answer  in  the  spring, 
you  know." 

"Yes,  but  I  shall  always  remember  that 
you  had  given  up  before  you  found  out ! ' ' 

"I  shall,  too,"  she  laughed,  "for  I  am  glad 


318  Uncle  Mary 

to  be  able  to  record  a  real  victory  over  the 
Halsey  stubbornness. " 

When  Alice  and  Libbie  Lee  came  in  later, 
Winthrope  met  them  at  the  door,  and  taking 
the  little  girl  up  in  his  arms  he  looked  ear- 
nestly into  her  happy,  round  face;  then  he 
held  her  close  and  said : 

"This  is  the  little  lady  who  has  brought 
joy  to  us  all.  I  think  we  ought  to  give  her 
three  cheers  and  a  tiger !  What  do  you  say, 
Uncle  Mary?"  Not  waiting  for  an  answer, 
he  swung  the  child  three  times  high  in  his 
arms,  in  laughing  frolic,  and  hugged  her 
prodigiously  for  the  "tiger." 

Then,  holding  her  off  at  arm's  length,  he 
exclaimed:  "Well,  I  suppose  I  will  have  to 
be  'Aunt  Winthrope '  since  Mary  has 
usurped  the  *  Uncle.'  'Aunt  Winthrope,' 
and  'Uncle  Mary,'  what  a  team  that  will 
be!" 

To  Libbie  Lee  all  this  meant  fun,  and  fun 
was  always  in  order,  but  to  Alice  it  told  a 
happy  story,  which  a  glance  into  Mary's 
face  confirmed. 


A  Victor  319 

Winthrope  Arnold,  being  a  man  who  did 
not  know  the  word  delay,  wanted  the  wed- 
ding ceremony  immediately.  "I  would  like 
to  get  my  family  together  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble," he  put  it  a  little  later  to  Mary  and 
Alice,  together,  with  a  lively  twinkle  in  his 
eyes. 

"Your  family,"  laughed  Alice,  inquir- 
ingly. 

"Of  course — my  family  of  four,"  he  re- 
turned. 

"Now,  Winthrope,  that  is  most  gracious 
of  you  to  include  me ;  but  while  we  were  west 
I  became  greatly  interested  in  the  many 
things  open  to  women  now.  I  am  sure  there 
are  things  I  can  do;  in  fact,  I  made  some 
plans  with  a  woman  in  business  out  there, 
which  I  can  take  up  at  once.  I  have  been 
useless  long  enough.  You  can  both  under- 
stand how  I  want  to  do  something,  now," 
she  appealed. 

But  there  was  vigorous  protest  from  both 
Winthrope  and  Mary ;  so  a  compromise  was 
finally  reached,  with  Alice  agreeing  to 


320  Uncle  Mary 

attempt  nothing  for  at  least  a  year,  in  order 
to  give  her  time  to  fully  establish  health  and 
strength. 

"Not  being  a  Halsey,  Alice,  but  belonging 
wholly  to  dear,  amiable  mother,  you  can  do 
lovely  things  people  want  you  to,  without 
being  dragged  through  fire  and  brimstone 
as  I  have  to  be,"  laughed  Mary  through  her 
tears,  as  she  kissed  her  sister,  then  whis- 
pered, "I  just  couldn't  live  without 
you!"  and  ran  into  her  own  room  for  a 
moment. 

With  one  matter  settled,  Winthrope  was 
eager  for  full  determination  of  all  his 
affairs,  so  he  called,  "Mary,  we  need  you! 
this  thing  is  not  all  planned  yet — I  want 
that  date,  you  know!" 

"I  am  so  meek  I  don't  know  myself!" 
laughed  Mary,  appearing  at  the  sitting 
room  door  again.  "I  suspect  I  will  do  about 
as  you  say." 

"Then  to-morrow  is  the  date!" 

'  *  Oh,  that  will  never  do ! "  cried  Alice.  '  '  I 
believe  both  of  you  have  lost  your  equilib- 


A  Victor  321 

rium!  If  we  are  going  to  have  a  wedding 
in  the  brown  cottage,  there  must  be  a  little 
fuss  over  it!  I  don't  think  there  was  ever 
a  wedding  here.  The  place  has  gone  from 
father  to  son  for  three  generations,  and  the 
weddings  have  all  been  somewhere  else. 
Give  us  a  few  days,  anyway,  Winthrope," 
she  pleaded.  Then,  as  Winthrope  looked 
unyielding,  she  turned  to  Libbie  Lee,  who 
did  not  understand  at  all  what  was  going  on, 
but  knew  it  was  something  very  important, 
therefore  exciting,  and  was  standing  by,  all 
attention.  Alice  reached  out  and  drew  her 
close : 

" Libbie  Lee,  don't  you  want  a  wedding 
here?" 

"Oh,  it  would  be  lovely!  Yours,  Auntie 
Alice?" 

"No,  Winthrope's  and  Uncle  Mary's!" 

Her  astonishment  was  too  great  for  words 
at  first.  Then  she  said,  "That  will  be  beau- 
tiful! And  will  Uncle  Mary  wear  a  long 
white  dress  and  a  veil  and  flowers'?"  she 
ended  excitedly. 


322  Uncle  Mary 


"I  hope  so,"  answered  Alice,  smiling,  but 
exceedingly  doubtful. 

"No,"  came  from  the  bridegroom-to-be, 
emphatically;  and  Mary  appeared  at  the 
door  long  enough  to  add  her  decided,  "No!" 

It  was  all,  apparently,  at  last  settled  with 
a  little  compromising  from  different  quar- 
ters :  Winthrope  agreeing  on  a  date  the  fol- 
lowing week,  which  would  give  time  to  make 
it  a  sort  of  real  wedding,  even  if  the  bride 
wouldn't  wear  orange  blossoms  and  a  veil 
— which  just  suited  the  groom. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  TOWN  WEDDING 

BUT  they  had  reckoned  without  the  town ! 
The  Stillwells  had  been  promptly  told.  All 
the  family  went  over,  in  fact,  after  tea  in 
the  car  to  tell  them,  and  to  make  some  plans. 
(Before  the  evening  was  half  over  Stanley 
confided  to  Libbie  Lee  that  Winthrope  Ar- 
nold was  a  good  sort,  which  sounded  splen- 
did to  Libbie  Lee.) 

Then  the  Stillwells  were  allowed  to  tell 
the  townspeople.  "I  want  them  to  be  happy 
with  me,"  Mary  had  said  to  him;  adding, 
" especially  the  children." 

It  was  a  day  later  that  the  minister  .came 
to  the  brown  cottage  in  the  early  morning 
and  found  Mary  and  Winthrope  talking 
over  some  matters — discussing,  in  reality, 
the  question  as  to  who  should  pay  for  the 
trousseau,  and  Mary  showing  decided  firm- 

323 


324  Uncle  Mary 


ness  as  she  smilingly  said  she  would  buy 
and  pay  for  her  own  trousseau!  That  the 
terms  with  her  old  "  employ er"  did  not  in- 
clude trousseau — all  the  while  remember- 
ing in  grateful,  loving  pride,  the  sum  which 
Elwood  had  so  generously  refunded,  and 
which  with  fine  New  England  justice  she 
meant  to  divide  equally  between  Alice  and 
herself. 

Mr.  Stillwell,  catching  some  of  the  dis- 
cussion, said  heartily,  "Mary,  you  are 
right!" 

And  Winthrope  was  vanquished.  Then 
the  old  man  sat  down,  and  for  a  few  mo- 
ments he  did  not  speak,  while  a  most  apolo- 
getic look  appeared  on  his  face,  as  his  gaze 
rested  on  the  floor.  Finally,  he  lifted 
his  head  and  smiled  whimsically  at 
Mary. 

4 'Mary,  child,  the  town  wants  a  church 
wedding!" 

.  A  sharp  retort  "What  has  the  town  to  do 
with  it?"  rose  even  to  the  new,  "meek" 
Mary*s  lips.  But  she,  too,  waited  a  mo- 


A  Town  Wedding  325 

ment;  then  -she  said  in  a  puzzled  way, 
"•Why?" 

Winthrope  was  watching  her,  ready  to 
put  in  his  protest  if  she  showed  any  sign 
of  agreeing.  But  the  minister  was  prompt 
with  his  reason : 

"Because  the  town  loves  you,  Uncle 
Mary!  You  have  won  the  ardent  devotion 
of  every  child  here  by  the  beautiful  service 
you  have  rendered  them ;  and  when  anybody 
wins  the  children  of  a  town,  the  whole  place 
is  won.  They  love  you,  and  they  want  to 
see  you  married,  and  I  think  every  little 
girl  wants  to  be  your  flower  girl,  and  every 
boy  your  page!" 

This  brought  a  laugh  all  round,  and  Win- 
thrope cried  impulsively,  "We  will  have  a 
church  wedding,  Mary,  and  have  every  last 
one  of  them  for  flower  girls  and  pages! 
What  do  you  say?" 

"Why,  Winthrope,  nobody  ever  heard  of 
such  a  thing!"  Mary  protested  in  laughing 
bewilderment. 

"What  does  that  matter?"  said  both  men 


326  Uncle  Mary 


at  once.  And  Winthrope  went  on,  "I  had 
not  thought  of  it,  but  of  course  they  love 
you,  and  we  will  just  give  them  all  the 
church  wedding  they  want!" 

Mary  looked  at  him  in  mock  despair,  then 
said,  "Well,  I  have  promised  not  to  be  a 
Halsey  any  more,  haven't  I?  And  I  have 
been  very  meek,  so  far,  in  this  matter,  so  I 
will  do  what  you  want  me  to — you,  Win- 
thrope, and  Mr.  Still  well" 

So  there  was  such  a  wedding  as  never 
was !  With  Mary  in  a  white  wedding  gown 
of  simple  materials,  but  beautiful  and  be- 
coming; and  a  long  veil  which  hid  her  face 
as  she  went  up  the  aisle,  following  Alice, 
who  as  maid  of  honor  was  also  dressed 
simply,  in  a  lovely,  becoming  pink!  But 
the  unusual  part  was  the  small  host  of 
flower  girls  and  pages,  with  Stanley  and 
Libbie  Lee  leading,  each  girl  dressed  in  a 
beautiful  gown  just  from  New  York,  and 
each  boy  in  a  spanking  new  suit  from  the 
same  metropolis!  For,  hadn't  Mary  meas- 
ured them  all  carefully  and  lovingly,  and 


A  Town  Wedding  327 

then  hadn't  Winthrope  Arnold  had  the  joy 
of  his  life  in  a  trip  down  to  the  great  city, 
where  he  bought  every  single  little  garment, 
of  the  finest  texture  and  the  latest  cut ! 

And  rose  petals !  The  aisles  were  so  thick 
with  them  that  it  was  like  a  fairy-land 
carpet  in  its  color  and  fragrance.  Then 
the  church  was  a  bower  of  beauty,  planned 
and  executed  by  a  metropolitan  florist ;  and 
it  was  packed  full  of  people  even  to  every 
inch  of  standing  room! 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

REVELATION 

IT  was  a  mild,  early  November  day  and 
a  lounger  sat  on  the  hotel  veranda  at  Bar- 
ringer.  A  man  of  medium  size  and  good 
address  was  hurrying  from  the  lobby  along 
the  veranda  to  the  steps,  when  the  lounger 
called  out  to  him : 

"Hey,  stranger,  I  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing!" 

The  man  halted  reluctantly  a  moment. 

"Sophie  Stoneham's  been  telling  me  about 
Mary  Halsey's  wedding,  and,  they  say  she 
had  the  biggest  doings  that  Sunfield  ever 
saw!" 

"Is  that  so?"  smiled  the  stranger. 

And  then  something  seemed  to  come  to 
the  lounger  by  electricity,  telepathy  or  some 

328 


Revelation  329 


such  modern  method :  "  Say !  be  you  the  man 
that  married  her?" 

"I  should  guess  so!"  laughed  back  the 
stranger  as  he  hurried  down  the  steps. 


THE  END 


<y&^c®^&%mw$^&%m 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  VIRGINIA 
DALE 

Another  GLAD  Book 


Trade 


'Mark 


By  John  Francis,  Jr. 


Cloth  decorative,  izmo,  illustrated,  $1.90 


This  new  novel,  marking  the  advent  of  a  hitherto 
unknown  writer  of  fiction,  offers,  along  with  a  delight- 
ful romance  of  youth,  a  tinge  of  scintillating  humor 
that  stamps  itself  indelibly  on  the  mind  of  the  reader, 
and  evokes  many  a  sympathetic  chuckle.  It  fairly 
bubbles  over  with  exuberant  cheerfulness,  and  is  sure 
to  inject  a  good  share  of  its  unlimited  store  of  "  What's 
good  for  the  world  "  into  every  one  who  is  lucky  enough 
to  read  it. 

Furthermore,  the  peculiar  magnetism  of  the  char- 
acters is  such  that  the  reader  cannot  believe  they  are 
merely  book  creatures,  and,  we  wager  they  are  not. 
Virginia  Dale,  the  heroine,  is  a  Good  Samaritan,  Miss 
Sunshine,  and  Glad  Heart  —  all  of  these  —  and  yet  the 
most  natural  young  person  imaginable,  and  as  she  pro- 
gresses in  her  mission  of  "  brightening  up  the  corner  " 
she  builds  for  her  own  future  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
characters  fiction  has  ever  claimed. 

The  story  is  essentially  a  "character"  story,  but 
this  does  not  detract  from  the  plot  what  it  just  seems  to 
get  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  for,  as  a  venerable 
reader  once  aptly  remarked :  "  When  story  folk  act 
natural,  we  ain't  goin'  to  forgit  'em." 

&ym&ceoea&xm>^^ 


THE  PRINCESS  NA1DA 

o!i  By  Brewer  Corcoran 

Author  of  "  The  Road  to  Le  Reve"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  ismo,  illustrated  by  H.  Weston  Taylor, 
$1.90 


Adventure  and  romance  are  the  keynotes  of  this  new 
novel  by  Brewer  Corcoran  —  adventure  which  will 
stir  the  blood  of  every  lover  of  fast-moving  action  and 
culminative  plot,  and  romance  which  will  charm  all 
who  have  a  tender  spot  for  a  lovably  beautiful  girl  and 
a  regular  "  he  "  man.  It  is  a  tale  of  today,  set  amid 
the  mountains  of  Switzerland  and  the  ugly  rocks  of 
Bolshevism  on  which  is  wrecked  the  mythical  princi- 
pality of  Nirgendsberg  —  a  story  of  a  brave  little 
princess  who  puts  unfaltering  faith  in  American  man- 
hood and  resourcefulness  and  finds  a  newer  and  a  better 
throne.  Bill  Hale  is  the  sort  of  hero  who  would  win  any 
girl's  love  —  a  clever,  capable  chap  with  two  fists  and 
a  keen  sense  of  humor.  Whether  he  is  matching  wits 
with  suave  Count  Otto,  romping  with  tiny  Janos,  fight- 
ing for  his  life  in  the  hunting  lodge  at  Wolkensberg  or 
pleading  for  the  love  of  his  "  princess  who  is  all  girl," 
he  is  a  man.  The  story  of  his  fight  for  all  that  counts 
in  life  is  told  with  a  rush  and  sweep  of  action  which 
will  hold  the  reader  breathless.  The  dialogue,  like  that 
in  Mr.  Corcoran's  other  books,  sparkles  with  humor, 
but  there  is  a  certain  pleasurable  grimness  in  his  method 
of  handling  the  Bolshevik  which  will  strike  an  answer- 
J  ing  note  in  every  true  American  heart  today. 

Q       "A  romance  of  vivid  interest,  a  love  story  full  of 

«  youth  and  adventures  that  thrill.  The  dialogue  is 
I  unusually  clever,  the  characters  delightfully  real,  the 

8    plot  one  that  holds  the  reader's  interest  to  the  end." 

|   New  York  Sun. 

®OKa&QK^&XttC8X^ 


&BBBKH3K8BBXOK8^^ 

S  A  FLOWER  OF  MONTEREY :  I 

A  Romance  of  the  Californias  8 

IT        By  Kalhcrine  B.  Hamill       "^ 

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The  wealth,  beauty  and  sunshine  of  the  Californias  in 
the  days  when  Spain  controlled  our  western  coast  and 
England  looked  with  covetous  eyes,  form  the  setting 
for  this  beautiful  and  artistic  romance  by  a  new  author. 
Mrs.  Hamill  has  recreated  vividly  the  little  Spanish 
town  where  the  mission  bells  rang  silvery  at  dawn,  where 
scarlet  uniforms  flashed  in  the  stately  drill  of  an  after- 
noon dress  parade  and  beautiful  women  wore  lace 
mantillas.  Pajarita,  the  "  Flower  of  Monterey,"  is  an 
American  waif,  cast  up  by  the  sea,  who  grows  up  among 
the  senors  and  senoritas,  happy  as  the  sunshine,  but 
with  a  healthy  American  disrespect  for  the  Spanish 
modes  of  life.  Two  men  love  her  —  Don  Jose,  the 
gobcrnador  proprictaro  of  all  the  Californias,  and  a 
young  American  sailor-adventurer,  John  Asterly. 

John  Asterly,  the  hero  of  A  FLOWER  OF  MON- 
TEREY, came  to  the  Californias  from  Boston.  He  is 
perhaps  thirty  years  old,  adventurous  and  impetuous. 
At  a  dance  on  the  beach  at  Monterey,  shortly  after  his 
arrival  in  the  Californias,  he  meets  Pajarita,  "the 
Flower  of  Monterey,"  and  falls  in  love  with  the  girl, 
although  she  is  promised  to  her  benefactor,  the  Spanish 
Governor.  On  the  very  night  before  her  wedding, 
Asterly  tries  to  dissuade  Pajarita  from  her  marriage 
with  some  one  other  than  an  American,  and  then  the 
romance,  rivalry  and  adventure  begin.  The  historical 
setting  of  the  story  is  correct  and  the  romance  unfolds 
with  dash  and  symmetry. 


&3&3XeC8XBSK8XS&^^ 

WILD  WINGS 

3g  By  Margaret  R.   Piper  §& 

Author  of  "  Sylvia's  Experiment,"  "  The  House  on  the 
Hill,"  "Sylvia  Arden  Decides,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  I2mo,  illustrated,  $1.90 


In  this  "  story  of  youth  for  grown-ups,"  the  vigorous, 
happy  Holiday  youngsters  who  lived  in  the  "  House  on 
the  Hill  "  develop  into  keen,  lovable  young  people, 
thoroughly  worth  knowing.  To  Tony,  as  brilliant  and 
beautiful  as  a  girl  can  well  be  and  still  be  human,  comes 
a  successful  theatrical  career  on  Broadway,  and  a  great 
love,  and  Larry  grows  into  the  industrious,  reliant 
young  doctor  that  one  would  expect  him  to  be. 

Few  writers  today  display  the  ability  which  Miss 
Piper  does  to  "  grow  up  "  a  large  family  of  boys  and 
girls,  each  with  an  individuality  well  developed  and 
attractive,  and  her  Holiday  family  holds  a  distinctive 
place  in  American  fiction  for  young  people  today. 

As  the  charming  characters  work  their  way  out  of 
problems  which  face  all  young  people  of  buoyant  spirits 
and  ambitions,  WILD  WINGS  gives  a  definite  message 
as  to  the  happiest  relationship  between  old  and  young. 

"  There  is  a  world  of  human  nature  and  neighborhood 
contentment  in  Margaret  R.  Piper's  books  of  good 
cheer.  Her  tales  are  well  proportioned  and  subtly 
strong  in  their  literary  aspects  and  quality."  North 
3  American,  Philadelphia. 

&&K6BaoBxxceo^&^^ 


Selections  from 

The  Page  Company's 

List  of  Fiction 


WORKS  OF 

ELEANOR  H.  PORTER 

POLLYANNA:  The  GLAD  Book     (500,000) 

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Mr.  Leigh  Mitchell  Hodges,  The  Optimist,  in  an  editorial  for 
the  Philadelphia  North  American,  says:  "And  when,  after 
Pollyanna  has  gone  away,  you  get  her  letter  saying  she  is 
going  to  take  '  eight  steps'  tomorrow  —  well,  I  don't  know  just 
what  you  may  do,  but  I  know  of  one  person  who  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands  and  shook  with  the  gladdest  sort  of  sadness 
and  got  down  on  his  knees  and  thanked  the  Giver  of  all 
gladness  for  Pollyanna." 

POLLYANNA:  The  GLAD  Book.  MART  PICKFORD  EDITION 

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Illustrated  with  thirty-two  half-tone  reproductions  of  scenes 
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While  preparing  "  Pollyanna  "  for  the  screen,  Miss  Pickford 
said  enthusiastically  that  it  was  the  best  picture  she  had  ever 
made  in  her  life,  and  the  success  of  the  picture  on  the  screen 
has  amply  justified  her  statement.  Mary  Pickford's  interpre- 
tation of  the  beloved  little  heroine  as  shown  in  the  illustrations, 
adds  immeasurably  to  the  intrinsic  charm  of  this  popular  story. 

POLLYANNA  GROWS  UP:  The  Second  GLAD  Book 

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When  the  story  of  POLLYANNA  told  in  The  Glad  Book  was 
ended,  a  great  cry  of  regret  for  the  vanishing  "  Glad  Girl " 
went  up  all  over  the  country  —  and  other  countries,  too.  Now 
POIXYANNA  appears  again,  just  as  sweet  and  joyous-hearted, 
more  grown  up  and  more  lovable. 

"  Take  away  frowns !  Put  down  the  worries !  Stop  fidgeting 
and  disagreeing  and  grumbling!  Cheer  up,  everybody!  POLLY- 
ANNA  has  come  back  I "  —  Christian  Herald. 


THE    PAGE    COMPANY'S 


WORKS   OF  ELEANOR   H.   PORTER    (Continued) 

MISS  BILLY  (93rd  thousand) 

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"  There    is    something    altogether    fascinating    about    '  Miss 

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demand  the  individual  attention  of  the  reader  from  the  moment 

we  open  the  book  until  we  reluctantly  turn  the  last  page."  — 

Boston  Transcript. 

MISS  BILLY'S  DECISION  (ySth  thousand) 

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of  action  and  humor.     Miss  Billy  is  nice  to  know  and  so  are 

her  friends."  —  New  Haven  Leader.- 

MISS  BILLY  — MARRIED  (86th  thousand) 

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Billy  is  just  as  glad  as  the  younger  figure  and  radiates  just 

as  much  gladness.     She  disseminates  joy  so  naturally  that  we 

wonder  why  all  girls  are  not  like  her."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

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'  Pollyanna  Philosophy '  with  irresistible  success.  The  book  is 
one  of  the  kindliest  things,  if  not  the  best,  that  the  author  of 
the  Pollyanna  books  has  done.  It  is  a  welcome  addition  to  the 
fast-growing  family  of  Glad  Books."  —  Howard  Russell  Bangs 
in  the  Boston  Post. 

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THE  TURN  OF  THE  TIDE 

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good  weman."  —  Herald  and  Presbyter,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 


LIST    OF   FICTION 


NOVELS  BY 

ELIOT  HARLOW  ROBINSON 

A  hook  which  has  established  its  author  in  the  front  rank  of 
American  novelists. 

SMILES,  A  ROSE  OF  THE  CUMBERLANDS  (26th 
thousand) 

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Smiles  is  a  girl  who  has  already  made  many  friends  and 
is  destined  to  make  many  more.  Her  real  name  is  Rose,  but 
the  rough  folk  of  the  Cumberlands  preferred  their  own  way 
of  addressing  her,  for  her  smile  was  so  bright  and  winning 
that  no  other  name  suited  her  so  well. 

"  This  is  the  best  book  I  have  ever  illustrated  for  any  pub- 
lisher. I  have  tried  to  make  the  pictures  all  that  you  hoped 
for  them."  —  H.  Weston  Taylor. 

E.  J.  Anderson,  former  managing  Editor  of  the  Boston 
Advertiser  and  Record,  is  enthusiastic  over  the  story  and  says: 

"  I  have  read  '  Smiles '  in  one  reading.  After  starting  it  I 
could  not  put  it  down.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  read  a  book 
like  this  that  thrilled  me  half  as  much,  and  never  have  I  seen 
a  more  masterful  piece  of  writing." 

THE  MAID  OF  MIRABELLE:  A  Romance  of  Lorraine 

Illustrated    with    reproductions    of    sketches    made    by    the 
author,  and   with  a  portrait  of   "  The   Maid   of  Mirabelle1," 
from  a  painting  by  Neale  Ordayne,  on  the  cover. 
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A  story  of  human  and  heart  interest.  The  "  Maid,"  Joan,  is 
a  personality  just  as  real  and  lovable  as  was  Smiles. 

"  The  spirit  of  all  the  book  is  the  bubbling,  the  irrepressibly 
indomitable,  cheerful  faith  of  the  people,  at  their  very  best, 
against  the  grave  Quakerism  from  the  United  States  standing 
out  grimly  but  faithfully.  The  tale  is  simply,  but  strongly 
told."  —  Montreal  Family  Herald  and  Weekly  Star. 

MAN  PROPOSES;  Or,  The  Romance  of  John  Alden 
Shaw 

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"  This  is  first  of  all  a  charming  romance,  distinguished  by  a 
fine  sentiment  of  loyalty  to  an  ideal,  by  physical  courage,  in- 
domitable resolution  to  carry  to  success  an  altruistic  under- 
taking, a  splendid  woman's  devotion,  and  by  a  vein  of  spon- 
taneous, sparkling  humor  that  offsets  its  more  serious  phases." 
—  Springfield  Republican. 


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THE  ROMANCES  OF 

L.  M.  MONTGOMERY 

Each  one  volume,  cloth  decorative,  12mo,  $1.90 
ANNE  OF  GREEN  GABLES  (355th  thousand) 

Illustrated  by  M.  A.  and  W.  A.  J.  Claus. 

"  In  '  Anne  of  Green  Gables '  you  will  find  the  dearest  and 
most  moving  and  delightful  child  since  the  immortal  Alice."  — 
Mark  Twain  in  a  letter  to  Francis  Wilson. 

"  I  take  it  as  a  great  test  of  the  worth  of  the  book  that  while 
the  young  people  are  rummaging  all  over  the  house  looking  for 
Anne,  the  head  of  the  family  has  carried  her  off  to  read  on  his 
way  to  town."  —  Bliss  Carman. 

ANNE  OF  AVONLEA  (255th  thousand) 

Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs. 

"  Here  we  have  a  book  as  human  as  '  David  Harum,'  a 
heroine  who  outcharms  a  dozen  princesses  of  fiction,  and  re- 
minds you  of  some  sweet  girl  you  know,  or  knew  back  in  the 
days  when  *he  world  was  young."  —  San  Francisco  Bulletin. 

CHRONICLES  OF  AVONLEA  (43d  thousand) 

Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs. 

"  The  author  shows  a  wonderful  knowledge  of  humanity, 
great  insight  and  warmheartedness  in  the  manner  in  which 
some  of  the  scenes  are  treated,  and  the  sympathetic  way  the 
gentle  peculiarities  of  the  characters  are  brought  out."  — 
Baltimore  Sun. 

ANNE  OF  THE  ISLAND  (6sth  thousand) 

Illustrated  by  H.  Weston  Taylor. 

"  It  has  been  well  worth  while  to  watch  the  growing  up  of 
Anne,  and  the  privilege  of  being  on  intimate  terms  with  her 
throughout  the  process  has  been  properly  valued.  The  once 
little  girl  of  Green  Gables  should  have  a  permanent  fictional 
place  of  high  yet  tender  esteem."  —  New  York  Herald. 

FURTHER  CHRONICLES  OF  AVONLEA  (2oth  thou- 
sand).    Illustrated  by  John  Goss. 
Nathan    Haskell    Dole    compares    Avonlea    to    Longfellow's 

Grand  Pre  —  and  says,  "There  is  something  in  these  continued 

chronicles   of   Avonlea   like"  the   delicate   art   which  has   made 

Cranford  a  classic." 
"  The  reader  has  dipped  into  but  one  or  two  stories  when  he 

realizes  that  the  author  is  the  most  natural  story  teller  of  the 

day."  —  Salt  Lake  City  Citizen. 


LIST    OF   FICTION 


WORKS  OF  L.  M.  MONTGOMERY  (Continued) 

ANNE  OF  GREEN  GABLES:  The  Mary  Miles  Minter 
Edition 

Illustrated  with  twenty-four  half-tone  reproductions  of 
scenes  from  the  motion  picture  production,  and  a  jacket  in 
colors  with  Miss  Minter's  portrait. 

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"  You  pass  from  tears  to  laughter  as  the  story  unfolds,  and 

there  is  never  a  moment's  hesitation  in  admitting  that  Anne 

has    completely    won    your    heart."  —  Joe    Mitchell    Chappie, 

Editor,  The  National  Magazine. 

"  Mary  Miles  Minter's  '  Anne '  on  the  screen  is  worthy  of 
Mark  Twain's  definition  of  her  as  the  '  dearest  and  most  moving 
and  delightful  child  since  the  immortal  "  Alice."  ' "  —  Cam- 
bridge Tribune. 

KILMENY  OF  THE  ORCHARD  (52d  thousand) 

Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs.     Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  $1.90 
"  A  purely  idyllic  love  story  full  of  tender  sentiment,  red- 
olent with  the  perfume  of  rose  leaves  and  breathing  of  apple 
blossoms  and  the  sweet  clover  of  twilight  meadow-lands."  — 
San  Francisco  Bulletin. 

"  A  story  born  in  the  heart  of  Arcadia  and  brimful  of  the 
sweet  and  simple  life  of  the  primitive  environment." — Boston 
Herald. 

THE  STORY  GIRL  (46th  thousand) 

Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs.  Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  $1.90 
"  It  will  be  read  and,  we  venture  to  predict,  reread  many 
times,  for  there  is  a  freshness  and  sweetness  about  it  which  will 
help  to  lift  the  load  of  care,  to  cheer  the  weary  and  to  make 
brighter  still  the  life  of  the  carefree  and  the  happy."  — 
Toronto,  Can.,  Globe. 

"  '  The  Story  Girl '  is  of  decidedly  unusual  conception  and 
interest,  and  will  rival  the  author's  earlier  books  in  popularity." 
—  Chicago  Western  Trade  Journal. 

THE  GOLDEN  ROAD  (28th  thousand) 

Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs.     Cloth  decorative,  12me,  $1.90 
In  which  it  is  proven  that  "  Life  was  a  rose-lipped  comrade 
with  purple  flowers  dripping  from  her  fingers." 

"  It  is  a  simple,  tender  tale,  touched  to  higher  notes,  now 
and  then,  by  delicate  hints  of  romance,  tragedy  and  pathos. 
Any  true-hearted  human  being  might  read  this  book  with  en- 
joyment, no  matter  what  his  or  her  age,  social  status,  or 
economic  place."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 


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NOVELS    BY 

ISLA  MAY  MULLINS 

Each*  one  volume,  cloth  decorative,  Issmo,  illustrated,  $1.75 

THE  BLOSSOM  SHOP:  A  Story  of  the  South 

"  Frankly  and  wholly  romance  is  this  book,  and  lovable  —  as 
is  a  fairy  tale  properly  told."  —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

ANNE  OF  THE  BLOSSOM  SHOP:   Or,  the  Growing 
Up  of  Anne  Carter 

"  A  charming  portrayal  of  the  attractive  life  of  the  South, 
refreshing  as  a  breeze  that  blows  through  a  pine  forest."  — 
Albany  Times-Union. 

ANNE'S  WEDDING 

"  Presents  a  picture  of  home  life  that  is  most  appealing  in 
love  and  affection."  —  Every  Evening,  Wilmington,  Del. 

THE  MT.  BLOSSOM  GIRLS 

"  In  the  writing  of  the  book  the  author  is  at  her  best  as  a 
story  teller.  It  is  a  fitting  climax  to  the  series."  —  Reader. 

TWEEDIE:  The  Story  of  a  True  Heart 

"  The  story  itself  is  full  of  charm  and  one  enters  right  into 
the  very  life  of  Tweedie  and  feels  as  if  he  had  indeed  been 
lifted  into  an  atmosphere  of  unselfishness,  enthusiasm  and 
buoyant  optimism."  —  Boston  Ideas. 

NOVELS   BY 

DAISY  RHODES  CAMPBELL 

THE  FIDDLING  GIRL 

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"A  thoroughly  enjoyable  tale,  written  in  a  delightful  vein  of 
sympathetic  comprehension."  —  Boston  Herald. 

THE  PROVING  OF  VIRGINIA 

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"  A  book  which  contributes  so  much  of  freshness,  enthusiasm, 

and  healthy  life  to  offset  the  usual  offerings  of  modern  fiction, 

deserves   all   the  praise   which  can  be   showered   upon   it."  — 

Kindergarten  Review. 

THE  VIOLIN  LADY 

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"  The  author's  style  remains  simple  and  direct,  as  in  her  pre- 
ceding books."  —  Boston  Transcript. 


LIST    OF   FICTION 


DETECTIVE  STORIES  BY 

GEORGE  BARTON 

Each  one  volume,  cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated,  $1.75 

THE  PEMBROKE  MASON  AFFAIR 

"  Not  until  the  end  will  the  reader  ever  surmise  how  Mason 
was  murdered.  An  ahsorbing  and  thrilling  story."  —  Cleveland 
Topics. 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  RED  FLAME 

"  An  admirable  story  —  an  engaging  story  of  love,  mystery 
and  adventure."  —  The  PMladelphia  Inquirer. 

THE  STRANGE  ADVENTURES  OF  BROMLEY 
BARNES 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  collection  of  more  interesting 
tales  of  mystery  so  well  told.  The  author  is  crisp,  incisive 
and  inspiring.  The  book  is  the  best  of  its  kind  in  recent  years 
and  adds  to  the  author's  already  high  reputation."  —  New 
York  Tribune. 

THE  AMBASSADOR'S  TRUNK 

"  Mr.  Barton  is  in  the  front  rank  of  the  writers  of  mystery 
stories,  and  this  is  one  of  his  best."  —  Pittsburgh  Chronicle. 

"  The  book  is  of  the  good  red-blood  type,  with  few  dull  lines 
and  stirring  action  and  episodes  in  almost  every  page."  — 
Montreal  Herald. 

BUSINESS    NOVELS   BY 

HAROLD  WHITEHEAD 

Professor  of  Sales  Relations,  The  College  of  Business 
Administration,  Boston  University 

Each  one  volume,  cloth,  12mo,  illustrated,  $1.75 

DAWSON  BLACK,  RETAIL  MERCHANT 

"  Contains  much  that  it  would  profit  a  young  merchant  to 
know  and  its  fictional  interest  makes  a  strong  appeal."  —  New 
York  Tribune. 

THE  BUSINESS  CAREER  OF  PETER  FLINT 

"  Peter  Flint  is  certainly  a  marvel.  .  .  .  His  career  reveals 
a  most  remarkable  metamorphosis  from  incapacity,  stubborn- 
ness, and  what  seemed  a  chronic  inclination  to  fall  down  on 
every  job  which  he  undertook,  to  an  amazing  exposition  of 
business  capacity  and  skill."  —  Boston  Transcript. 


THE   PAGE   COMPANY'S 


NOVELS    BY 

MARGARET  R.  PIPER 

SYLVIA'S  EXPERIMENT:   The  Cheerful  Book 


Cloth  decorative,  with  a  frontispiece  in  full  color          $1.T5 
"  An    atmosphere   of   good   spirits    pervades    the   book ;    the 

humpr  that  now  and  then  flashes  across  the  page  is  entirely 

natural."  —  Boston  Post. 

SYLVIA  OF  THE  HILL  TOP:   The  Second  Cheerful 
Book  Trade Mark 

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"  There  is  a  world  of  human  nature  and  neighborhood  con- 
tentment and  quaint  quiet  humor  in  Margaret  R.  Piper's  second 
book  of  good  cheer."  —  Philadelphia  North  American. 

"Sylvia  proves  practically  that  she  is  a  messenger  of  joy  to 
humanity."  —  The  Post  Express,  Rochester,  N.  Y. 

SYLVIA   ARDEN  DECIDES:    The   Third   Cheerful 
Book  Trade Mark 

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"  Its  ease  of  style,  its  rapidity,  its  interest  from  page  to  page, 
are  admirable;  and  it  shows  that  inimitable  power  —  the  story- 
teller's gift  of  verisimilitude.  Its  sureness  and  clearness  are 
excellent,  and  its  portraiture  clear  and  pleasing." — The  Reader. 

FICTION  FOR  YOUNGER  READERS  BY 

MARGARET  R.  PIPER 

THE  HOUSE  ON  THE  HILL 

By  MARGARET  R.  PIPER. 

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" '  The  House  on  the  Hill '  presents  higher  ideals  of  service 
and  life  for  boys  and  girls,  and  the  charming  characters 
worked  their  way  out  of  problems  which  face  all  young  people 
of  buoyant  spirits  and  ambition."  —  Buffalo  News. 

"  The  story  is  a  delightful  one,  with  all  kinds  of  interesting 
adventures  and  characters."  —  Sunday  Leader. 

THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE  CLAN 

By  MARGARET  R.  PIPER. 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  John  Goss  $1.75 

"This  is  a  delightful  story  for  young  and  old,  wholesome 
and  uplifting.  The  chief  charm  of  the  story  lies  in  its  sim- 
plicity," —  Philadelphia  North  American. 


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